The Other Side of the Mirror
by Amethest
Summary: So you've read the HP Books, you know Harry's side, but what about Draco? Not much is known about him and this fic gives you a deeper look into who Draco really is. A MUST READ! 1st yr is completed.
1. The Wizarding World

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter Two  
  
-Hogwarts-  
  
Draco sat in the back of the car, looking at the passing scenery. They were on their way to King's Cross, where they would go through the barrier to reach the Hogwarts Express. There were charms around the hidden platform that prevented Apparating, so, to Draco's father's dislike, they had to take their car to the station. His father preferred to associate himself as little as possible with Muggles, but Draco had to get to the train, so his father grudgingly took him. This heightened his love and admiration for his father; that his father would do anything for Draco, no matter how much he didn't want to do it.  
  
In the front of the car were their driver and his father. There was a closed barrier between the front and back, and so Draco and his mother were alone in the back.  
  
Draco felt a touch on his leg and looked to see his mother with her hand on his leg. She gave him a reassuring smile. "It'll be alright, Draco," Narcissa said.  
  
Draco smiled slightly. "I hope so."  
  
"It will be. I know this is a new experience for you, but you'll be fine. Crabbe and Goyle will be with you and I'm sure you will soon have many friends. And I'm sure you will do fine in school."  
  
"But what about father? He'll be so disappointed if I don't get top grades, and he expects me not to study! And on top of that, Harry Potter is going to the same school! I'm going to be compared to him! And how am I supposed to compare to him? He'll be perfect, with top grades, good looks, tons of friends, never do anything wrong, what am I compared to that?"  
  
"Love, don't fret. Just do your best. Your father will understand."  
  
"But father expects so much of me." Draco looked down. "I just don't want to fail him. Living up to his expectations means everything to me."  
  
Narcissa squeezed his leg reassuringly. "Draco." When he didn't look up, she said again, "Draco." Draco looked up at her smiling face. "You are destined for great things, Draco. I've never doubted that, not even for a minute. And you shouldn't doubt it either."  
  
"I suppose," Draco said, sighing, looking out the window again. He just didn't want to disappoint his father. His father's opinion of Draco meant so much, and he didn't know what he would do if he hurt his father.  
  
Suddenly, the car stopped. The barrier slid down and his father looked back at them, his white hair gleaming in the light. "Let's go."  
  
They climbed out of the car and Lucius pulled Draco's trunk out of the back. Draco took his cage with Mabol in it and followed his father up the wide stairs, his heart thumping wildly in his heart. He could feel his nerves tingling, he was so nervous. He took a deep breath and forced the calm and collected expression onto his face that his father always wore. It helped a little.  
  
"Filthy Muggles, I don't see why we can't just Apparate onto the platform instead of putting up with this," his father commented as they walked towards Platforms Nine and Ten. Lucius was wearing a simple black cape, so the Muggles didn't give them much notice. Draco glanced up at his father; he could see the distaste clearly written all over his father's face. Draco inched closer to his mother as they walked, looking around at all the Muggles. His father looked at him sharply and Draco quickly moved a bit away from his mother.  
  
They stepped up to the stone wall that was the barrier between the Muggle world and the wizarding world. Without a backwards glance, his father strode through the barrier. Draco quickly followed, his mother coming swiftly behind.  
  
The scarlet train that was the Hogwarts Express sat in the station, billowing smoke around the platform, packed with people. Draco glanced up at the sign that read, "Platform Nine & Three-Quarters, Hogwarts Express," and looked at the clock which read ten till eleven. The hooting of owls and families saying good-bye filled the air. Draco took a deep breath, and walked confidently beside his father as they walked over to the train. He didn't want to look like a mommy's boy in front of all these people. He had to impress them and please his father. Draco looked around at all the students that were loading their trunks onto the train. He sneered slightly at two parents that were saying good-bye to their daughter. They were so obviously Muggles that it made Draco get a bad taste in his mouth. They shouldn't be letting Mudbloods into a wizarding school. It should only be for pure-bloods. The headmaster must be mad to let in people like that, Draco thought.  
  
Then Draco saw a family that really gave him a bad taste in his mouth, and an upset stomach along with it. Farther down the platform were two tall red-heads, twins, and a shorter boy with the same red-hair. Weasleys. Draco glanced up at his father and saw Lucius frown in distaste. "A disgrace to the wizarding world. They should not be allowed into Hogwarts," Lucius said, sneering. Draco nodded, watching as Mrs. Weasley said good-bye to her sons.  
  
"Father, why is Mr. Weasley even still in the Ministry if he's so tainted by his love of Muggles?" Draco asked.  
  
His father looked down at him. "Draco, there are some things in this world that we do not like, but sometimes there is not much we can do about it. The Weasleys have been a stitch in our side for years and unfortunately, we cannot take out that stitch. We just grit our teeth and bear through it and hope that one day, the other wizards will realize the truth; that the Weasleys do not belong in such prestigious positions when they can barely afford to clothe themselves properly and act like decent wizards." Draco nodded. "Make sure you stay away from sorts like that. You don't want to be disgracing your family by associating with them."  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, but secretly, he wondered what it would be like to live with the Weasleys. They seemed so carefree and such a loving family. It was true that Draco loved and admired his father very much, but, aside from his mother, there wasn't much warmth in Malfoy Manor. Then he quickly pounded that thought from his mind. He didn't know what he had been thinking. Befriending a Weasley! That was unthinkable. He quickly turned his attention back to the train.  
  
"Draco, you take care of yourself," his mother said. Draco looked at her and she smiled. "Owl us anytime."  
  
Draco nodded. "I will, mother."  
  
"I'll be sending those sweets and little cakes that you love so much periodically."  
  
Draco grinned. "Thanks."  
  
"Do your best and most importantly, have fun."  
  
Draco nodded. "I will."  
  
Narcissa stepped back and Lucius turned his hard gaze on his son. "Now, Draco, you remember what we talked about earlier."  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, father."  
  
"Good. You will not disgrace our family, understood?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, father."  
  
Lucius nodded. "Very well. We will see you again during the holidays." With that, Lucius strode away, Narcissa following. She turned her head to give Draco one last smile and wave. Draco smiled and began walking towards the train.  
  
"Oy! Draco!" Draco looked to see Crabbe and Goyle running over to him. Draco sighed and began walking towards them, carting his cage behind him. A man came up and took his cage from him.  
  
"We got seats like you said," Goyle said.  
  
Draco nodded. "Alright then. Take me to them."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle nodded and stepped onto the train. Draco followed. When they reached their compartment, however, Draco saw that a boy a taken residence in it. Draco knew what his father would want him to do, and so Draco put on his Malfoy face, as he called it, and said shortly, "You'll have to find another compartment. This one's taken."  
  
The boy looked up at Draco nervously, standing. "Oh, sorry." The boy quickly left and walked down the corridor. Draco flopped down on the seat, stretching out. Crabbe and Goyle sat down across from him.  
  
Goyle rubbed his stomach. "You think food's going to come soon? I'm hungry," Goyle complained.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "You're always hungry, Goyle."  
  
A second later, a clattering sound came from out in the corridor. They looked to see a lady pushing a cart into the opening of their doorway. "Anything off the cart?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco pleadingly. Draco sighed. "Honestly, didn't you remember to bring money?"  
  
They nodded. "But we want to save it for later. Who knows if they give us candy at Hogwarts?" Crabbe said.  
  
Draco shook his head, rolling his eyes. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold galleons. He handed them to the lady.  
  
"Thanks Draco!" Goyle cried, picking out his sweets.  
  
"Don't call me that," Draco said shortly.  
  
Goyle, who was reaching for a chocolate frog, paused, looking at Draco. "What do I call you?"  
  
"Malfoy," Draco said simply and reached for a pack of Licorice Wands. He ripped open the package and began eating one. He watched in disgust as Crabbe and Goyle gorged themselves on sweets. "Don't you two ever not eat sweets? You're acting like you haven't eaten for weeks, not just a few hours."  
  
"I'm a growing boy," Crabbe said, stuffing his mouth full of Every Flavor Beans. Draco just sighed.  
  
"Have you seen a toad?" a nervous voice asked. Draco looked up to see a plump boy standing in the doorway.  
  
"Who are you?" Draco asked.  
  
"Neville Longbottom."  
  
"Well, Longbottom, if I saw your toad, I would squash it flat," Draco sneered. "So let's hope that I don't find that disgusting creature. It should stay in its cage, where it belongs."  
  
Neville's eyes went wide. "I - I - uh . . ." he stammered, his face turning bright red. He quickly ran out.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Crabbe on his knees, on the floor. Draco sighed. "What are you doing?" Crabbe looked up at Draco. "Looking for the toad."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Get off of the floor, Crabbe." Crabbe pulled himself up on the seat and began looking at a pack of Cauldron Cakes sadly. "What's wrong now?"  
  
"I wanted to see the toad," Crabbe whined.  
  
"Honestly, Crabbe, if you became slower, time would stop completely," Draco said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Can I look for the toad?" Goyle asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Draco glared at Goyle, who shrunk back slightly. "Don't question me." Goyle nodded and began eating some more sweets. Draco looked out at the open fields that the train was passing currently. Maybe I should have been nicer to Neville; what if the Longbottoms was a family that my father wanted me to make friends with? Oh well, too late for that, I suppose.  
  
"Oh, Draco," a sing-song voice called, interrupting Draco's thoughts. He looked to the doorway and, much to his dismay, Pansy Parkinson was standing there. She was tall and dark-haired, not extremely pretty, but she was very annoying.  
  
"What do you want?" Draco asked shortly.  
  
She gave him a sweet smile. "Just to see what you were up to." She stepped aside and two boys entered the compartment.  
  
"I'm Ernie MacMillan," the short, dark-haired boy said.  
  
"And I'm Brandon Nott," the tall, brown-haired boy said.  
  
Draco nodded and then looked at Pansy. "I know you're here for another reason."  
  
Pansy gave him a wide-eyed stare. "Me? Oh, no, of course not." She smiled. "I just wanted to see you."  
  
Draco groaned inwardly, but Ernie saved him from having to say something in return. "Did you hear? Harry Potter's here! On the train!"  
  
Draco immediately sat up, looking at Ernie in interest. He grinned. "Harry Potter? Really? Where?"  
  
Ernie shrugged and Brandon spoke up, "I think he's down in the last compartment on the right. Everyone's really excited. I mean, Harry Potter! Here, on this very train. I can't wait to meet him!"  
  
Draco nodded. "Me, neither."  
  
"Well, we must run along now, more people to visit, you know," Pansy said. "Come along, boys." Brandon followed her out and Ernie was turning to leave, when Draco stopped him.  
  
"Why do you follow her like that? It's pitiful," Draco said.  
  
Ernie shrugged. "I don't care." He smiled. "She's popular and anyone that hangs around with her is guaranteed that."  
  
Draco just rolled his eyes, sitting back. Ernie ran after Pansy. "Pathetic," Draco muttered.  
  
"I got an idea!" Goyle said.  
  
Draco looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Really, do tell."  
  
"I know what house I'm going to be in!"  
  
"Enlighten us."  
  
"Hufflepuff."  
  
Draco looked at him as if he had just sprouted ten heads. "What? Hufflepuff? Why would you want to be in that house?" Draco asked, disgusted.  
  
"My granddad was in it," Goyle said. "So I think, I will be in it."  
  
"Let's hope not," Draco said. "That house is for pansies." Draco stood. "Well, I want to check out Harry Potter, this boy I've heard so much about." Draco grinned. "I bet he's really powerful and I hope he's nicer than that boy I met in the robe shop." Draco stepped into the corridor and looked back at Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, come on." They jumped up and followed him down the corridor. Draco always felt more confident when Crabbe and Goyle were with him and he wasn't even slightly nervous about meeting this famous boy, but he was very excited.  
  
A slight commotion from down the corridor caught Draco's attention and he walked into the last compartment on the right, the one that Brandon had said that Harry Potter was in. On the left side sat a boy with scraggly brown hair and round glasses. The boy looked at him, his green eyes bright. Draco recognized the boy from the robe shop and didn't really want to talk to the boy. He figured he must be in the wrong compartment when he noticed the scar on the boy's forehead shaped like a lightning bolt. Draco's eyes widened. So this is Harry Potter? That rude boy in the robe shop was Harry Potter?  
  
"Is it true?" Draco asked in amazement. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"  
  
"Yes," the boy said, looking at Crabbe and Goyle wide-eyed.  
  
"Oh," Draco said, realizing that he had forgotten to introduce Crabbe and Goyle. "This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco introduced. He smiled. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."  
  
A poorly disguised snicker caught Draco's attention. He looked over to the right and saw a tall, gangly boy with bright-red hair sitting on the seat. Draco glared at him. I am not going to be made fun of! And by a Weasley, of all people. What was Harry Potter doing making friends with a Weasley?  
  
"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco asked. He sneered. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Draco looked back at Harry and gave him a knowing look. Harry probably didn't know any better. I'd better make sure he makes friends with the right people, or he'll get in with the wrong families, and then he'll be done for. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," Draco said helpfully. "I can help you there." He held out his hand, but it just hung there.  
  
Harry looked at him coolly. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."  
  
Draco felt his cheeks tinge pink as he shook with rage on the inside. No one spoke to him like that and got away with it. Who did Potter think he was, anyway? "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Draco said, trying to control his anger. "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."  
  
Harry and the Weasley boy stood up angrily and Draco backed up slightly, feeling a bit nervous, but then he put on the his Malfoy look, knowing very well that Crabbe and Goyle could take care of these two easily. "Say that again," the Weasley boy said, his face bright red.  
  
Draco smirked. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco sneered, glancing at Goyle, who had put himself into a menacing stance. Crabbe had done the same.  
  
"Unless you get out now," Harry said.  
  
Draco sniggered. "But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys?" Draco glanced at the assortment of sweets that littered the seats. He knew that Goyle wanted to eat some, so why not? "We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."  
  
Draco stepped aside as Goyle reached for the sweets. If they were smart, no one got in the way between Goyle and sweets. Draco saw the Weasley boy leap forward and then Goyle let out a horrible yell. Draco backed up slightly. Had that Weasley actually hurt Goyle? Then he saw Goyle shaking his hand, howling in pain. There was something brown and furry clinging to Goyle's hand! What is that thing? Goyle shook his hand hard and the thing flew off, hitting the window.  
  
Not wanting to deal with Potter and Weasley, Draco decided to leave. He stormed out of the compartment, heading back to his own, rage boiling inside of him. Potter is going to get his due, Draco thought angrily. He was so busy with his inner raging emotions, he didn't notice as students backed away from him, their eyes-wide, as he stormed by, the look on his face positively murderous. If he had noticed, he probably would have been very pleased at their reactions, since that was exactly what his father wanted him to do.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
When the train slowed to a stop, Draco was slightly calmer, and they headed off of the train, clothed in their robes. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a loud, booming voice called. Draco recognized it as the gamekeeper, Hagrid's voice. Draco sighed. That oaf was leading them to Hogwarts? They were going to be lost for sure. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"  
  
They followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. It was silent, for all the students were too busy trying to make sure they didn't fall flat on their faces. Draco stumbled slightly and used Goyle to keep himself from falling into the mud. It was pitch-black and he couldn't see a thing.  
  
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec,' Hagrid called into the darkness, "jus' round this bend here."  
  
They turned the bend and Draco heard gasps around him. Draco had seen Hogwarts before, so he didn't gasp, but he still looked at it in awe. They stood at the edge of a black lake and perched atop a high mountain on the far side, the windows glowing in the starry sky, torches flaming, was Hogwarts. That castle will always impress me, Draco thought. It even reminds me of home, somewhat.  
  
"No more'n four to a boat!"  
  
The moon had come out and so Draco could finally see, slightly. At the edge of the lake was a fleet of tiny boats. Draco saw that Crabbe and Goyle had already sat down in one. Draco walked over to the boat and saw Brandon Nott, the boy from the train, running over to him. "Oy! Draco!" Draco stopped, waiting until Brandon had reached him.  
  
"Excuse me?" a nervous voice asked. Draco turned to see a girl about his height, so rather short, with her hair tied in pigtails, looking at him.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
"Are you looking for a boat, too?" she asked.  
  
"I already have one," Draco said shortly, "and no, you're not coming with us. We already have four." With that, Draco walked away, leaving her behind. Brandon walked beside him, sighing in relief.  
  
"That girl back there, that was Susan Bones. I swear, she's stalking me," Brandon muttered. Draco smiled slightly and they stepped into the boat.  
  
"Everyone in?" called Hagrid. "Right then - FORWARD!"  
  
Draco felt the boat slip onto the lake, their precession moving slowly towards the towering castle.  
  
When they had passed into a dark tunnel, they stopped at the underground harbor, climbing out of the boats.  
  
"Trevor!" Draco heard a boy say and peered around the crowd of students to see the Longbottom boy, Neville, scooping up his toad. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"What kind of a pet is a toad?" Draco said snidely.  
  
Brandon opened his mouth to reply when the great doors in front of them swung open. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She looked sternly at them. Draco moved around to the side of the mass of students, Crabbe, Goyle, and Brandon following.  
  
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."  
  
She turned and began walking, the students following her into a huge entrance hall. Draco looked around at the flaming torches and the high ceiling. He ran alongside the students as they hurried across the flagged stone floor, the grand marble staircase looming up before them. Professor McGonagall turned and took them into an empty chamber off to one side. Draco could hear voices coming from the other side of two great oak doors, which he knew led into the Great Hall where they would have their Welcoming Feast.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses . . ." Draco tuned out the rest of what she was saying as she told them about the four houses. He already knew that and decided to entertain himself by looking around. The room was rather drab, and there wasn't much that Draco really cared about.  
  
He heard the door shut and turned his attention back to the students. He realized that Professor McGonagall had left them for the moment. The students began chattering amongst themselves excitedly. "What do you think we're going to have to do?" someone asked.  
  
"I heard that there was some sort of test," another said.  
  
Draco was slightly nervous himself about what he would have to do, but he didn't show it. That was another thing his father was strictly adamant about: always look confident, no matter how you really feel. What house will I be put in? Draco wondered. I just have to be in Slytherin! I just have to! My father wouldn't even speak to me if I was placed in a different house. And I want to be in the same house all my ancestors have been in. Malfoys have always been in Slytherin.  
  
A fierce chill covered Draco and he jumped back, realizing that a ghost had just passed through him. Several students screamed, but Draco didn't. There were several haunts that had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor, so Draco had grown accustomed to seeing ghosts. Though, he tried to avoid having one of them pass through him, for the chill was very cold and shocking.  
  
Draco watched as a ghost with a ruff and tights passed by, talking to a fat one. Draco knew several of the ghosts from what he had heard about Hogwarts. The fat one had to be the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost. The one in a ruff and tights was most surely Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. He spotted the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost, floating next to another woman. Then he saw the Bloody Baron drift by and Draco smiled. That was the Slytherin ghost, and the only ghost that Draco knew of that could control Peeves the Poltergeist.  
  
"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -" Draco heard the Fat Friar say.  
  
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves?" Nearly Headless Nick said. "He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"  
  
When nobody answered, the Fat Friar said, "New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?" Some of the students nodded. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."  
  
"The Sorting Ceremony's about to start," a stern voice said. Draco looked to see that Professor McGonagall had returned. The ghosts slipped away through the wall. "Follow me."  
  
They followed her through the entrance hall and into the Great Hall. Draco smiled, looking around at the magnificent hall. Thousands of candles hung in mid-air and flaming bowls hung between the windows on the sides. Four long tables filled the hall, each table filled with students nearly up to the front. At the head of the hall, there sat a squared U-shaped table where all the professors were sitting.  
  
"I can see the sky!" Crabbe commented.  
  
Draco looked at him and followed his gaze to the ceiling where the night sky could be seen. "It's enchanted to look like that, like the sky," Draco said. Crabbe looked at him.  
  
"Wicked."  
  
They reached the front of the hall and the students crowded around. Draco pushed his way through, up to the front of the crowd, Crabbe and Goyle behind him. On a stool sat an old hat and Professor McGonagall had stepped up to the side of the hat.  
  
Draco wrung his hands nervously. He just had to get Slytherin1  
  
Several students gasped as a rip appeared in the hat. Draco watched in amazement as a song spilled forth:  
  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"  
  
Several first-years around Draco applauded, but Draco was too busy thinking. What if I don't make Slytherin? Ravenclaw would be alright, I suppose. Father wouldn't be too upset. But if he got Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, he would just die!  
  
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Draco looked up to see Professor McGonagall holding out a long scroll. "Abbcott, Hannah!"  
  
Draco watched as a nervous girl crept up to the stool and sat down. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her heat and it shouted,  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Bones, Susan!"  
  
Draco watched as the girl that had talked to him earlier about sharing a boat stumbled up the few stairs and onto the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head and it shouted,  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Good, let's just hope I get in a different house!" Draco heard Brandon exclaim beside him.  
  
"Boot, Terry!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Brown, Lavender!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Bulstrode, Millicent!"  
  
Draco watched as a huge girl strode up to the stool, sitting down. She looked very intimidating. What house would she get? Then the hat shouted,  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
A Slytherin. Not bad, though she isn't that pretty, perhaps her mood isn't foul.  
  
"Crabbe, Vincent!"  
  
Crabbe walked up and sat down on the stool. When the hat touched his head, it shouted,  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Granger, Hermione!"  
  
Draco watched as a bushy-haired girl walked nervously up, sitting on the stool. "I'm surprised she can see under all that hair!" Brandon commented, laughing quietly. Draco smiled, nodding.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Then a boy named Seamus Finnigan was made a Gryffindor and Goyle was called up and made a Slytherin.  
  
"Longbottom, Neville!"  
  
"Hey, isn't that the boy that was looking for his toad?" Ernie asked.  
  
Draco looked at him, realizing that he must have just walked up. "Yes," Draco said, sneering slightly.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Well, I guess I'm glad I didn't make friends with him; no pure-blood would be placed in Gryffindor unless they were a Weasley, and Weasleys don't really count as pure-bloods," Draco said.  
  
"MacMillan, Ernie!"  
  
Ernie looked at Draco. "I wonder what I'll get?" Draco shrugged and Ernie walked up to the stool. He sat down and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head.  
  
It promptly shouted,  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
Draco burst out laughing, trying to keep it soft. He watched as Ernie walked past Draco. "Tough luck," Draco commented. Hufflepuff! Then his smile faded. What if I'm a Hufflepuff? Draco felt the tendrils of nervousness creeping back into his stomach. I just have to be in the same house as Crabbe and Goyle!  
  
"Malfoy, Draco!"  
  
Draco felt his breath catch up in his throat. He swallowed and put on his most confident persona. Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin, please be Slytherin, Draco kept repeating in his mind as he sauntered up to the stool, sitting down. Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin.  
  
He had been so focused on that one world, that the hat had barely grazed the top of his head when it shouted,  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
Draco let out a sigh of relief and grinned. He hopped off the stool and, with one last glance at Brandon, Crabbe, and Goyle, he took a seat at the Slytherin table between Crabbe and Goyle. Waves of relief washed over him. I'm in. Nothing more to worry about. Father will be very pleased.  
  
"Nott, Brandon!"  
  
Draco watched as Brandon walked up to the stool, sitting down. Brandon glanced at Draco, who gave him a smile. Brandon's eyes went upward as he watched the hat being placed on his head. It waited a bit and then shouted,  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
Brandon grinned and ran over to the Slytherin table, taking a seat across of Draco. "I was so nervous!" Brandon declared.  
  
Draco nodded. "Tell me about it."  
  
"Way to go," Goyle said, smiling.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Parkinson, Pansy!"  
  
"Please, don't make her a Slytherin," Draco muttered.  
  
But, unfortunately, the hat shouted,  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
Pansy walked over to their table, taking a seat next to Brandon. She flashed a smile. "Well, look at that. We're all in the same house."  
  
"Except for Ernie," Brandon said, snickering.  
  
Draco smiled but his attention was drawn to the name that had just been called. Harry Potter. Which house will he be in? Draco watched as Harry walked up to the stool nervously, sitting down. The entire hall was silent as every head was turned in Harry's direction. Even the professors were leaning forward slightly, most noticeably Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster.  
  
Finally a rip appeared in the hat and it shouted,  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Of course," Draco muttered. "Where else would they put the famous Harry Potter?" Draco still had not forgiven Harry for treating him so rudely, and on two occasions at that! What was Potter's problem? Was he too good to make friends with the right people?  
  
Several more names were called, and then, "Weasley, Ronald!"  
  
Draco watched with half-interest, as he already knew which house Weasley would be put into. He was more concerned with getting some food in his stomach. He looked at all the empty plates hungrily.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Professor Dumbledore stood, holding out his arms, grinning. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Draco looked at him as if he were mad. "Thank you." Dumbledore sat down.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't know why someone like that is the Headmaster. My father said that he was a loony, and I'm beginning to believe he was right."  
  
Brandon shrugged and then his eyes grew wide. Draco followed his gaze and looked at the assortment of food that had suddenly appeared. He grinned and dug in, placing all kinds of food on his plate and eating rapidly.  
  
He felt a slight chill and looked up to see the Bloody Baron hovering over them and looking at Draco. "So you are Draco Malfoy," the Baron said.  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes."  
  
"I remember your father. Interesting fellow." The Baron looked at the dishes of food. "Such a wasteful activity. I don't see why you get so much pleasure out of it."  
  
"We're not dead," Draco said simply, but he was feeling nervous again. The Baron was making him nervous, the way he kept looking at Draco, as if trying to measure him up. Draco turned his attention to his food and thankfully, the Baron floated away.  
  
"The Bloody Baron is wicked!" Brandon commented. Draco shrugged, glancing at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both gorging themselves on food. It was disgusting the way they just shoved all the food into their mouths. He looked away, turning his attention back to what Brandon was saying. "And did you know, I heard those staircases actually move! I wonder if anyone has ever fallen off of one."  
  
"Well, we don't have to worry much about them," Pansy said matter-of- factly.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Really, and why do you say that?"  
  
"Oh," she said, with a small wave of her hand. "Our common room is in the dungeon and most of the classes are on the first floor." She sighed. "I don't want to walk outside in the snow to get to classes! I'll ruin my shoes!" Pansy complained.  
  
Draco groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes. He turned back to his food, concentrating on eating, trying to shut out Pansy's whining.  
  
Draco looked up at the teacher's table and spotted a professor with shoulder-length black hair, talking to another professor that was wearing a purple turban. I wonder what that clown teaches? Draco thought, looking at the teacher with the turban. I hope not one of the good subjects, or we're in for it.  
  
Draco watched as the black-haired wizard looked over at the Slytherins and smiled slightly. "That's the head of our house, Professor Snape," an older Slytherin said. Draco looked down the table to see a tall boy with short black hair, looking at him. The boy gave him a smile that looked a little like a smirk. "I'm Marcus Flint, sixth-year."  
  
Draco nodded. "Draco Malfoy."  
  
Marcus nodded. "Our fathers went to school here together. Are you going to try out for Quidditch?"  
  
Draco nodded, grinning. "Most definitely."  
  
Marcus smiled. "Good. I'm the captain and we have one spot to fill." Another boy tapped Marcus on the shoulder and Marcus turned to him, ending their conversation for the time being. "I'll see you around."  
  
"Yeah," Draco said softly.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After they had finished with their dessert and all traces of food had vanished, Dumbledore stood up again. "Just a few more words not that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."  
  
Draco heard Pansy gasp. "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore finished. He gave a flick of his wand words spilled out in gold lettering above their heads. "Everyone pick your favorite tune, and off we go!"  
  
The hall erupted into thousands of variations of the song, all sung on different pitches. Draco sat silently, embarrassed. What kind of song is this? It sounds awful! Draco heard Pansy spring into her own version, sung very high-pitched. Draco thought his ears were going to explode at the awful sound. Crabbe began to mumble the tune to "Three blind mice," intermixed with words from the school song.  
  
"What are you mumbling?" Draco asked.  
  
Crabbe shrugged. "I picked a tune."  
  
Draco just rolled his eyes.  
  
Finally, the dreadful song ended; Draco's ears were still ringing. "Ah, music," Dumbledore said.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. He calls this music? He really is a loony! Positively mad!  
  
"A magic beyond all we do here!" Dumbledore continued. "And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"  
  
The students rose and Draco followed the rest of the Slytherins out of the Great Hall. 


	2. Hogwarts

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter One  
  
-The Wizarding World-  
  
People went about their daily business, going to school, going to work, producing traffic jams; everyday, normal life. Within this world, the Muggle world, there resided another world: the wizarding world. Unplottable by Muggles, there stood many manors and schools. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was such a school, hidden from all prying Muggle eyes. Boys and girls all over the world received letters from the various schools, some were pure-blooded, some were Muggle-born, or half and half, but they all got letters.  
  
In an unplottable manor, miles away from Muggles, a boy had just received his acceptance letter. He sat in his room, by the window, looking at the letter he had been anticipating for his entire life:  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
  
'-----------------------,  
  
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Surpreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)  
  
Dear Mr. Malfoy, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We expect your owl no later than July 31. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Minerva McGonagall  
  
Deputy Headmistress Draco Malfoy had grown up in the wizarding world in one of the most prestigious wizarding families: the Malfoys. Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, was in the Ministry of Magic and was someone very powerful and to be admired. His father was one of the few wizards that managed to survive through the reign of the Dark Lord and Draco knew that his father had enough Dark Arts items beneath the manor to put him in Azkaban for life, but Draco knew that his father was far too clever to be caught. All his life, Draco had tried to live up to his father's expectations, but he never seemed good enough, fast enough, smart enough, or brave enough. Draco wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to please his father. Draco's mother, Narcissa, was someone to whom Draco could talk to all the time, unlike his father who remained very aloof and was never home due to his job in the Ministry of Magic. Draco would often go to her room and sit with her in her bed, talking. She always smiled when he was around and whenever Draco was around her, he felt that he was good enough to become a wizard and continue his blood line. She was the one that had argued with his father about which wizarding school he would attend. His father had wanted him to go to Durmstrang but his mother wanted him to go to Hogwarts, the school that she had attended. Secretly, he didn't want to go to Durmstrang because it was so far away and he wouldn't be able to see his mother as often. Besides, it was said to be somewhere remote and cold, and Draco always preferred the warmth. Of course, he never spoke a word of this to his father.  
  
This school, Hogwarts, was going to be a very new experience. Sure, he'd been on many trips and he always roamed the manor by himself, but he wouldn't have anything familiar to ease his nerves. Of course, Crabbe and Goyle would be there with him; he had grown up with them, and he was sure that Pansy Parkinson would be going. He knew that they would be sorted when they reached Hogwarts, and he hoped that Crabbe and Goyle would be in the same house as him and that house would be Slytherin. He desperately wanted to be in the same house his entire family had been in and he didn't know what he'd do if he was placed in another. He would be very pleased if Pansy was placed in a different house, though. He only got along with her because their families were friends, but he didn't like her. She was so grabby and she always hung on him. It had gotten very annoying after awhile. He remembered one birthday when she had been invited and she had not let go of his arm the entire time. His mother had finally come to the rescue, asking him to come help her inside.  
  
Draco looked out the window and spotted his eagle owl, Mabol, flying towards him. He quickly opened the window, letting her soar in. He held out his arm and she landed. He smiled and stroked her affectionately. She gave a hoot of pleasure. "Let's go outside, shall we?" he asked. She hooted again and he stood, placing his letter down on the window sill. She flew over to the railing at the end of his bed, perching there as he put on his cloak, scarf, and gloves. He held out his arm and she flew over to him. He left his room, following the maze of corridors until he walked out under a large arch into a grassy open area next to the manor. He sat down on a stone bench, Mabol still sitting on his arm. She flew off his arm, soaring into the open air. He watched her as she stretched her wings and disappeared behind one of the manor's many towers.  
  
"Draco!" Draco looked to see Crabbe and Goyle walking towards him. He winced inwardly, but he forced a smile on his face. They weren't that bad, but they were so immature sometimes; and they were not very bright. On the sunny side, Goyle was very tall and bulky, and looked very intimidating. Crabbe was stouter, but he still could look menacing if he wished to. Draco had every intention on using those facts while he was at Hogwarts. Draco himself wasn't that short (Goyle still towered over him), but he was very lean. His white-blond hair and fair skin didn't help to make him any more intimidating. His father though, was a man to be admired. He could carry himself so confidently and he was always cool and collected. Draco wanted to be exactly like his father and he knew his father had taught him well. The Malfoys were above the rest and he should never forget that. His father, tall, but not extremely muscular, could stare down anyone and anything. The look he could get on his face was enough to scare anyone and Draco wanted to be able to make people leave him alone with a look just like that.  
  
Of course, he was willing to befriend anyone, just as long as they were pure-blooded. That was something his father was strictly adamant about, and Draco agreed. His father said that Muggles were dirtying up their blood and the pure-bloods were becoming lesser in number. They needed to preserve what they could. His father had told him several families to watch out for. One family in particular was the Weasleys. Draco sneered as he thought about them. The Weasleys were pure-bloods, but they hardly acted that way. Their father disgraced the wizarding world by associating with Muggles. Mr. Weasley was in the Ministry of Magic, but as Draco's father had said, Mr. Weasley should not be in there, since his mind was tainted by his love of Muggles.  
  
"We got our letters!" Goyle said, waving his letter in his slightly pudgy hand. Draco blinked out of his thoughts as Crabbe and Goyle stopped in front of him. Crabbe had his letter in his hand as well. Draco smiled.  
  
"Hogwarts is going to be wicked!" Crabbe exclaimed.  
  
"From what I hear, I suppose so," Draco said. His thoughts went to the headmaster. His father had said that Dumbledore shouldn't be headmaster because he was a Muggle-lover. That was why he let in Mudbloods. Draco knew what he heard, but he had decided to see for himself and then make his own opinion of the headmaster; though his father had never been wrong and Draco trusted him completely.  
  
"Happy birthday, Draco," Crabbe said. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"My birthday was a month ago, Crabbe."  
  
"Oh, sorry." Draco waved his hand.  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
"You think there will be food on the train?" Goyle asked. Draco sighed. That was all Goyle ever thought about: food.  
  
"Yes, Goyle, there will be food."  
  
"I can't wait!" Goyle said, rubbing his stomach.  
  
"Neither can I," Draco said, unenthusiastically.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Draco stood in his room in front of his mirror. He didn't think he was vain, but he did pride himself in his appearance. "Draco!" his father called from downstairs. Draco straightened his black turtleneck and pants. Then he began to smooth out the creases in his cloak. "Draco, now!" Draco sighed.  
  
"Coming father." Draco moved away from the mirror and then glanced back, sliding his hand over his slicked back hair. He wanted to be as neat as his father, especially since they were going to Diagon Alley, and he never knew who he'd meet. Also, he wanted to impress his father. A new racing broom had just come out, the Nimbus 2000, and Draco's Comet 260 was getting very old. Draco really wanted to play Quidditch and he really wanted that broom; he also knew that first-years weren't allowed their own broomsticks, but if he got one, he knew he'd find some way to get it into the school. He had really hoped he would get it for his birthday, but unfortunately, no broom-shaped packages had been there to open.  
  
"Draco!" Draco checked one last time to makes sure he had his supply list and then walked out of his room. He slid down the banister of the spiral staircase, nearly flying off the end. His mother and father were standing at the bottom. His father had his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Draco straightened his cloak sheepishly as his father held out his hand. Draco walked over to his father and Lucius put his arm around his son. Draco knew that they wouldn't be Apparating into Diagon Alley like this for much longer, since Draco would soon be too big; but Draco silently loved being this close to his father. Lucius never let Draco near him and Draco knew his father was not a warm person, but he was his father, none the less, and Draco admired him deeply. As they Disapparated, Draco kept himself close to his father.  
  
A few moments later, they Apparated in the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron. Narcissa stood on the other side of Draco and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. In front of Draco stood the brick wall that Draco knew was the entrance to Diagon Alley. He saw his father give him a cold glare when Draco didn't let go of his father's waist quickly enough. Draco immediately removed his arm and watched as his father opened the entryway.  
  
Though Draco had been there numerous times, he still enjoyed the street lined with various shops. When Draco edged towards his mother, his father glared at him and Draco moved away. "Draco, why don't you go get your robes. I'll be waiting for you in the wand shop." Narcissa said, smiling. Draco smiled, nodding.  
  
"Give me your list, Draco," Lucius said curtly. Draco handed his father his supply list and watched as his father walked off, giving off a superior air and a look on his face that said 'Make way, I have money and I'm shopping.' Draco walked down the street and spotted Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. While there were normally various colored robes for every occasion, there were only black robes in the window; school robes. Draco stepped inside and immediately Madam Malkin rushed over to him.  
  
"Hello," she said, smiling. Draco smiled back. "Hogwarts, dear?" Draco nodded. "Well then, let's get you fitted up." She led Draco to the back of the shop and over to a stool. He stepped up onto it as another witch hurried over and began pinning black robes up to him. Draco looked around, bored. He had been fitted for robes all of his life, and it had never gotten any more interesting. Through his bored thoughts, Draco heard a chime sound and Madame Malkin rushed to the front of the shop. "Hogwarts, dear?" Draco heard her ask. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."  
  
Draco watched in interest as Madam Malkin led another boy to the back of the shop. Finally, something interesting. This boy had bright green eyes, round glasses and slightly messy hair. Draco glanced over the boy's clothes; the shirt and pants that were too large. He may look disorderly, but he might be someone to be friends with. There was a certain power that he could sense in the other boy. Draco decided to be friendly and try to make friends with this boy. Draco knew that he wanted as many friends as possible in Hogwarts because he would not be with his mother and he would have to fend for himself. He knew his father expected great things of him and Draco was going to try his hardest to fulfill his father's vision.  
  
The boy stood on the stool next to Draco as Madam Malkin slipped a robe over his head and began fitting him. "Hello," Draco said pleasantly, "Hogwarts, too?"  
  
"Yes," the boy said curtly. Draco felt slightly rebuffed at the boy's short answer, but decided to try to see if he could find something in common with the boy.  
  
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco said. He smiled. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Draco smiled again. "Have you got your own broom?"  
  
"No," the boy replied. Another one word answer. Why was this boy being so unfriendly? Draco decided to try another subject.  
  
"Play Quidditch at all?"  
  
"No." No Quidditch? Was this boy some sort of Mudblood? Then Draco thought about it. I suppose that he could still be pure-blooded, but not to hear of Quidditch? Well, I suppose I'll try another subject.  
  
"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"  
  
And, true to the past, the boy answered with a short, "No." Draco decided to keep trying, although he was beginning to become frustrated.  
  
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Draco said with a laugh.  
  
This time, the boy hardly answered. "Mmm."  
  
Draco glanced out at the front of the shop and saw someone waving and holding two ice cream cones in his large hand. It was a large man, with dirty clothes, and scraggly hair. Draco recognized him from what his father had told him about Hogwarts. This man was some sort of servant, a savage that lived on the grounds of Hogwarts, Draco thought. What was he doing waving in here?  
  
"I say, look at that man!" Draco exclaimed, pointing at the giant man.  
  
"That's Hagrid," the boy said, finally smiling. "He works at Hogwarts." Draco swallowed, realizing that the man had been waving at the boy. Draco felt bad, now that he realized that this boy was friends with this man.  
  
"Oh," Draco said. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"  
  
"He's the gamekeeper." Another rude answer. Draco found that he was beginning to find this boy very distasteful. Maybe he shouldn't befriend this boy. After all, the boy was going around making friends with savages, who knew what kind of blood he was?  
  
"Yes, exactly," Draco agreed. "I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." Draco thought this was funny but his smile was cut short when he saw the boy's cold glare.  
  
"I think he's brilliant," the boy said coldly. Draco was beginning to dislike this boy more every moment. What was his problem?  
  
"Do you?" Draco asked, curious. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"  
  
"They're dead," the boy said shortly. Draco winced inwardly. No parents? How awful.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Draco said quickly. Then Draco thought of something. "But they were our kind, weren't they?" What if this boy was some sort of Mudblood? If he had been talking to a Mudblood, his father would be very displeased, and Draco did not want to be associating with Mudbloods.  
  
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Draco sighed in relief. Good, a pure-blood, but still, his attitude. Draco still felt angry that this boy was being so unfriendly. It wasn't as if Draco had done anything to the boy. Draco decided to ask some more questions, still very curious. He should probably find out the boy's name; then he could ask his father about him.  
  
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"  
  
Before the boy could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," she said. The boy quickly hopped down from the stool.  
  
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco said, still trying to be pleasant, although he severely dislike this boy. The boy didn't even have the courtesy to answer and quickly hurried out of the shop. Draco clenched his teeth in anger. That boy had no right to be so rude!  
  
"You're finished, dear," Madame Malkin said, bringing Draco out of his thoughts.  
  
"Thank you," Draco said, hopping off the stool. Madame Malkin handed him his school robes and Draco left the shop, heading over to Ollivander's to get his wand. As he was walking through the street, he noticed the boy and the giant walking towards him. Draco quickly ducked into a shop, watching as they passed by. Draco hurried out and headed towards Ollivander's.  
  
However, when he reached the wand shop, his mother was no where to be seen. An older man with thinning white hair stood by a counter. "Good afternoon."  
  
"Hello," Draco said, slightly uneasy. "My mother is supposed to meet me here. I'm not to buy a wand until she comes."  
  
"Not to worry, she'll be here. In the mean time, we should get you your wand. It may take a bit." Draco went to protest but then he grudgingly walked over to the man. "Don't look so sour-faced. Which is your wand arm?" Draco held out his left and Mr. Ollivander began measuring him. "You must be a Malfoy, am I correct?" Draco nodded.  
  
"Yes, my name is Draco." Mr. Ollivander nodded.  
  
"Very powerful family you come from."  
  
"Yes, I know," Draco said shortly. He didn't like the uneasy feeling that was in the pit of his stomach. He very much wanted his mother there with him. Where was she?  
  
Mr. Ollivander sighed. "Let's find a wand for you, shall we?" He walked up to a shelf full of boxes and pulled down a few. He opened a box and handed the wand to Draco. "Oak and dragon heartstring. Eight inches." Draco waved the wand around, but nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander handed him another wand. "Holly and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches." Draco waved his one around, but again, nothing happened. "Maple and phoenix feather. Eleven inches." This time, however, the wand emitted red sparks. "Very good. Slightly temperamental, but you've got a good wand."  
  
At that moment, Narcissa walked in. Draco heaved a sigh of relief and ran over to her, his new wand in his hand. She smiled. "I see you have a wand! Very nice, Draco. I'm sorry that I wasn't here sooner, I ran into a few old friends." She put an arm around Draco and he crept closer as Mr. Ollivander boxed up his wand. When they walked out of the wand shop, his father was standing there waiting, a tower of brand new books in his arms, a cauldron hanging on his arm with his scales, telescope, and phials. Draco quickly took the books and cauldron from his father and they left Diagon Alley, Apparating home.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Draco sat at the end of the long, shiny, table in their dinning room. His mother and father were nowhere to be seen and so Draco was eating yet another dinner by himself. He poked at his steak and then cut a piece, chewing thoughtfully, looking around at the tapestries that filled the walls of the room. Draco had been brought up in luxury and with house elves. From what his mother had told him about Hogwarts, he knew that the school had house elves, so Draco wasn't worried about his clothes, food, or room. What he was really worried about was disappointing his father. The previous night's conversation flooded back to him.  
  
"Now Draco, understand one thing. You are a Malfoy, therefore you have certain obligations to fulfill. Who are you to make friends with?"  
  
"Pure-bloods only because we are superior to Mudbloods," Draco recited. He had had that drilled into him his entire life.  
  
"Very good. And how will you do in school?"  
  
"I will get the top grades and be the top of the school," Draco recited again.  
  
"Good, and you will not study, because studying is bothersome and gets in the way of your social career. All Malfoys have gotten the highest marks in the past without having to be locked up in their rooms like some boring Muggle, pouring over dusty books. You will be the same."  
  
"Yes, father."  
  
Draco sighed. How was he supposed to get the highest grades without studying? Sure, he was smart, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could get top marks without studying. He knew that his father expected great things of him and for him to excel in everything effortlessly, but Draco knew that he was going to have work extremely hard to live up to his father's expectations. The trick was, not to let his father find out that he was studying, because his father would disapprove and his father's wrath was the last thing that Draco wanted.  
  
Then, of course, if anything could ever get worse, which it always seemed to do for Draco, he found out that he would be going to school with Harry Potter. Draco had figured that he had to be around the same age as Harry because it was eleven years ago when the Dark Lord was defeated. How did a boy, an infant, defeat the Dark Lord? That question had run through both Draco and his father's minds constantly. Of course, this boy would be famous and he was sure that everyone would want to be friends with him because he was Harry Potter. Draco, admittedly, did want to meet this boy that he had heard so much about. He was probably a great wizard and if Draco was friends with him, all the better. He figured that Harry would be brilliant and powerful, and Draco always aligned himself with the more powerful families, as his own family had done in the past. He hoped that Harry wouldn't be stuck up, or snobbish, because Draco sincerely wanted to be friends with him. The other factor about pure-bloods was covered because Draco knew that Harry's parents had been a witch and wizard. He hoped his father would approve.  
  
Only one more week and I'll be off to Hogwarts, Draco thought. Let's just hope it goes well. 


	3. Potions and Flying

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter Three  
  
-Potions and Flying -  
  
As the Slytherin first-years followed the prefect down the stairs to their dungeon common room, Draco looked around at the glistening walls that had surrounded them for most of the trip. What a dreary place. I hope our common room is a little brighter, and warmer, Draco thought, rubbing his arms. So far so good. I've made friends with at least a few people, but I wonder about the sleeping arrangements. What if I'm put in a room full of strangers? Oh, I hope that I'm with Crabbe and Goyle. That would at least make it bearable. And classes. They start tomorrow. I just know I'm going to be in the library forever, looking up all the information. I suppose I'll just have to do my best, just as my mother said. I just hope I can please my father.  
  
They stopped, bringing Draco from his thoughts. Ahead, he heard something say, "Password?"  
  
Then the prefect said, "Pure-blood," and Draco heard a grinding noise as the wall in front of them slid open. Pure-blood; good password, Draco thought with a smile.  
  
They began moving again and walked through a small hall and around a corner, entering their common room. The common room was indeed warmer and better lit. There were green lamps placed around and hanging from the arched ceiling that gave off eerie greenish-yellowish light. They walked down several marble stairs and Draco looked down at the plush carpet beneath his feet. He looked up to see tall, slender, Gothic arches, a blue, glowing surface in between each of the four arches. Off to the left was a huge, marble fireplace where a fire burned heartedly. To the right was an area pushed back into the wall with tables and comfortable looking chairs in it. "You'll find all your belongings have already been brought up. Boys dormitory is up the stairs to the right, girls the same on the left," the prefect said. As the students walked broke off in groups, Draco walked over to the pushed back area. Above this area was a balcony that looked out over the common room. In the back, there were four more of the arches with the glowing blue surface in between them lighting up the area with a bluish glow, and staircases led up to the right and left to their rooms. Draco turned, looking around the room. In front of the fire there were two large, black, leather, comfortable looking couches, facing each other. Several dark green plush chairs were set up around the common room. Tables sat around with chairs lined up to them. The walls were covered in mahogany bookshelves. Draco followed several Slytherins up the stairs to their dormitories. When they reached the balcony, Draco walked up the railing, looking around at the huge common room. Very nice. Just like home. "Oy! Draco!" Draco turned to see Brandon standing behind him. Brandon walked up to stand next to Draco, placing his hands on the rail. "Wicked, isn't it?" Brandon asked, smiling. Draco nodded. "Comfortable, at least. Thankfully it's warmer than those corridors that we were walking through! I thought I was going to freeze to death." Brandon laughed. "I know what you mean, but I suppose that's why it's called the dungeons." Draco shrugged, looking down at the groups of older Slytherins that were talking amongst themselves. He spotted Marcus standing off to one side, talking with two older boys. "That's the captain of our house team," Draco said, pointing to Marcus. Brandon looked to where Draco was pointing. "He looks nice enough." Brandon grinned. "I can't wait until Quidditch season starts!" "Me neither. I've been playing Quidditch all of my life, so I think I'll have a chance at the team," Draco said hopefully.  
  
"Well, they say that it's really tough to get on the team your first year, but if you're good enough, I suppose you'd have a chance." "I'm good enough, but even that might not be enough if someone betters me," Draco said sulkily. "You never know until you try," Brandon said, smiling. "I suppose," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm going to bed. You coming?" "Why not, there's not much to do right now anyway, and we'll probably need all the sleep we can get if we get the workload I think we're going to get." Draco didn't reply. Instead, he turned away from the railing and walked to the boy's dormitory. He found his room easily enough, since Crabbe and Goyle came running out to meet him. They showed him their room. To Draco's pleasure, Brandon was rooming with them also. Mumbling a quick, "Good-night," Draco slipped into his pajamas and crawled into his large four-poster bed. He shut the drapes and pulled the covers up to his chin, closing his eyes. I hope tomorrow goes well, he thought before falling into a deep sleep. ~ ~ ~ After breakfast, the homework began piling up. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of all the different stars and the movement of the planets. Three times a week, they were out in the greenhouses for Herbology, taught by a short witch named Professor Sprout. Thankfully, that class they shared with the Ravenclaws. The class that really hit sub-zero, and probably lower if at all possible, was History of Magic, which was taught by Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher. They shared this class with the Ravenclaws, also. Draco nearly fell asleep several times, but, remembering that he was supposed to get top grades, he forced his eyes open and scribbled down all the names and dates that Professor Binns was reciting in monotone. During Charms, all the first-years from all four houses shared the class. Draco sat up front with Crabbe and Goyle. Across from them, much to his dismay, sat three rows of Gryffindors, including Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Draco ignored them for the most part. Professor Flitwick, easily the smallest person in the entire school, stood on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached Potter's name in the roll call, he squeaked and fell off the tower of books, vanishing behind them. Draco just rolled his eyes and waiting until the professor had climbed back up onto the tower. Transfiguration was one of Draco's more interesting classes and they shared it with all four houses. Professor McGonagall allowed no nonsense in her classroom. Although she was the head of Gryffindor, she was a fair teacher. Draco sat up front in the middle, next to Goyle. Granger and a Hufflepuff sat behind them. At the beginning of class, she came out straight forward, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Draco nodded, smiling. He glanced at Weasley, who was sitting to Draco's left and back a few rows, next to Potter. No matter what Weasley does, he's sure to mess up, Draco thought with a smile. Draco watched in interest as Professor McGonagall transfigured her desk into a pig, and then back again. I can't wait until I can do some of that! Draco thought happily. Of course, they didn't get to try any transfiguring until the end of class, when, after taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and told to try to transfigure it into a needle. Draco stared at his match, pointing his wand at it. "Come on, you stupid thing. Change." Nothing happened. He sat back, glaring at it. He glanced at Goyle, who was busy shaking his wand at his match, to no avail. Suddenly he heard a slight "pop!" from behind him and turned to see Granger looking at her transfigured match. She was smiling and waving her hand in the air. "Professor! I've done it!" she cried. Draco just glared at her. How come she could do it and I can't? Am I that daft? Professor McGonagall walked over and picked up the needle, giving Granger one of her rare smiles. "Very good, Ms. Granger. You see class, how this needle is completely silver and pointy, very much unlike the match it used to look like. Ten points to Gryffindor," she said, setting the match down. Draco just glared and Granger looked back at him smugly. He turned around and sulked. That stupid Mudlbood. How dare she look at me like that! I'm a pure-blood! I should be able to transfigure one ruddy match! If my father finds out that a Mudblood bested me, I'm done for. Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he had been looking forward to, proved to be rather dull. Professor Quirrel taught it, and Draco had a feeling he really didn't know what he was talking about. His lessons were a joke and there was a strong smell of garlic in the air, which Draco found to be rather disgusting. When asked about his turban, he said that an African prince had given it to him as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but Draco didn't believe him for a second. When one of the Gryffindors asked him out he fought off the zombie, Quirrel turned red and began talking nonsense about the weather. Draco just rolled his eyes and scribbled on his parchment, completely bored. Friday didn't come quickly enough, in Draco's opinion, and the reason was Potions. The head of their house, Professor Snape, would be teaching it and Draco knew that Snape wouldn't let the Gryffindors get away with anything, especially Potter, who seemed to be able to do nothing wrong in all the other professors' eyes. The only downside was that it was in the dungeons and it was very cold. Draco sat up at the front between Crabbe and Brandon. Goyle was sitting on the other side of Crabbe. Behind them sat a row of Gryffindors, including Potter, Weasley, and Granger. At the beginning of class, Professor Snape read through roll call, pausing at Potter's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity," Draco sniggered quietly. If Potter thought being famous was going to get him through school, he's in for a rude awakening. At least this professor won't let him slide. More fair to the rest of us. When Snape finished roll call, he looked around at them. Draco looked up at him intently, liking the professor more each minute. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." Draco's eyes widened. Wicked! "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Complete silence followed Snape's speech and Draco couldn't wait to get started. Snape looked at Draco, giving him a slight smile. Draco smiled back. Finally, a professor on our side. Suddenly Snape snapped his head to look behind Draco. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Sleeping draught, Draco thought, smiling, proud that he knew something right off the start. "I don't know, sir," Draco heard Harry say behind him. Draco watched as Snape sneered. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" "I don't know, sir." Draco laughed silently, Crabbe and Goyle along with him. He could feel his shoulders shake with the effort of keeping his laughter silent. How hard is it to know that? Every decent wizard knows this stuff. I suppose Potter isn't as bright as everyone seems to think, if he doesn't even know basic stuff like this. Draco glanced back at Harry, who was looking very embarrassed. Granger was waving her hand in the air wildly, as if she was trying to flag down something. Draco just rolled his eyes, turning back to the front, where Snape was standing. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape asked. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" "I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Harry said quietly. Draco sniggered. It's the same thing, Potter! Even you should be able to remember that! Draco glanced back and saw that Granger was actually standing, her hand so high that it nearly reached the ceiling. He rolled his eyes. What does she do for fun? Read more dusty books? "Sit down," Snape snapped. Draco looked back to the professor. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well?" he asked, looking around. "Why aren't you all copying that down?" Draco quickly pulled out his parchment and quills and began writing down what Snape had just told them. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Draco smiled and kept scribbling. The remainder of Potions, they were paired off. Draco was paired off with Brandon. The cauldron in front of them had a lit fire under it already, so that part was done. They were supposed to be mixing up a simple potion to cure boils, something Draco was bound to prove himself in. He just had to get this right; he had to prove that he was better than a Mudblood. Draco set to crushing the snake fangs in front of him, grinding them into tiny pieces, while Brandon weighed the dried nettles that they had been given. A jar of horned slugs sat between them, which they would have to stew before adding their other ingredients. After crushing the snake fangs, Draco picked up the jar of horned slugs and put them into the boiling cauldron. He began stirring it and was pleased when Snape walked over to him, inspecting his cauldron and said, "Well done Mr. Malfoy. See here, everyone, how Mr. Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs. The perfect consistency." Draco grinned and suddenly a cloud of acid green smoke and a loud hissing noise filled the dungeon. Draco felt a slight burning in the soles of his shoes and immediately leapt up onto his stool, looking around. Behind him, Longbottom had melted his partner's cauldron, and the potion was seeping across the dungeon floor. Longbottom had been drenched in the potion and was moaning in pain as angry red boils popped up all over his skin. Draco rolled his eyes. How daft can you get? It's a simple potion! Then Draco winced. Has to hurt, though. But honestly, if he had done it correctly in the first place, it wouldn't have happened. "Idiot boy!" Draco heard Snape snarl. Draco looked at Snape, who cleared the potion away with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Snape shook his head and looked at Longbottom's partner. "Take him up to the hospital wing." Then he turned on Potter and Weasley. Draco watched this smugly. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." Draco laughed silently and sat down on his stool. He and Brandon began working on the final parts of their potion. ~ ~ ~  
  
On the way to dinner, Draco walked with a large group of Slytherins. "You know, I just don't think it's fair that first-years never get on the house teams. I mean, what if we're good enough!" Draco complained loudly. "Exactly," Terrace, a burly first-year, agree. "Most of us have been flying around all of our lives, and we should be good enough."  
  
"Well, I've been playing Quidditch forever, so I think that should count for something," Draco said, as they passed by a group of Gryffindors, who were heading for dinner. They began walking behind the Slytherins.  
  
"Oh well, I suppose that'll never change," Tawny, a tall brown-haired first- year, said. She shook her head. "My mum said that there hasn't been a first-year on the house team for almost a century!"  
  
Draco nodded. "You know, if they won't let us on the house team, why don't they let us have our own broomsticks? Then we could at least fly around and not be stuck on the ground all the time."  
  
"We're not old enough," Tawny said. "That's what my mum says. She won't let me have my own broomstick until I make the house team, which is never going to happen."  
  
"Well, to lighten up the mood here," Draco said loudly, so all the group could hear, "I should tell you this story about something that happened to me a few years ago. We have this old Comet Two-Sixty, which is another reason why I want a new broom, and I was flying it around, playing a game of Quidditch with a few friends, when one of them threw the Quaffle too far and it went out of our boundaries."  
  
Terrace's eyes went wide. "You mean where Muggles could see?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Exactly. So, of course, I had to go get it because if father ever found out that we had let a Quaffle into the Muggle world, then I'd never be allowed on a broomstick again. So I flew after it and I had just caught it when a Muggle helicopter flew right by me! I was so surprised that I nearly fell of my broom."  
  
"Did they see you?" Tawny asked.  
  
"I don't think so, because nothing ever appeared in the Daily Prophet, but it was a close call. I flew home so fast, I thought my broom was going to collapse!"  
  
"Blimey, you're lucky you made it!" Terrace commented.  
  
Draco nodded. "Tell me about it."  
  
"That's wicked, though!" a first-year commented.  
  
Draco smiled. "Thanks."  
  
~ ~ ~ That evening, in the common room, Draco sat down at one of the tables near the fireplace, and began working on their History of Magic homework. They had to write an essay on Uric the Oddball and it was due Monday. Draco wanted to get it done now so he would have time to relax over the weekend. Crabbe and Goyle, who loathed anything to do with homework, were busily eating sweets and making loud jokes over in a corner. Draco knew that they would be running to him Sunday night, asking to copy his essay. Draco shut them out and focused on his essay. He opened his A History of Magic book and began flipping through the pages until he came across the section on Uric the Oddball. Uric the Oddball is known to have slept in a room containing no fewer than fifty pet Augureys. During one particularly wet winter, Uric became convinced by the moaning of his Augureys that he had died and was now a ghost. His subsequent attempts to walk through the walls of his house resulted in a concussion of ten days' duration. It is also said that he once attempted to prove that Fwooper song was actually beneficial to the health and listened to it for three months on end without a break. Unfortunately the Wizard's' Council to which he reported his findings were unconvinced, as he had arrived at the meeting wearing nothing but a toupee that on closer inspection proved to be a dead badger. Draco wrote the information down, thinking, He was rather odd, wasn't he? "Oh, Draco," a sing-song voice called. Draco groaned. "What do you want Pansy?" he grumbled. "Just to see how you were doing with all that hard work," she said, draping her arms on his shoulders. "Get off of me," he growled, shrugging off her arms. "That's not a very nice way to treat one of your friends," she said, sitting down in the chair next to him. She gave him a sad-eye look. Draco rolled his eyes. "Just leave me alone. If you noticed, I'm trying to get this essay done and I was doing rather well until you came along and bothered me. Now go away!" Draco turned and looked back at his essay, scribbling some more on his parchment. I bet Granger finished this the day it was assigned and she probably didn't have any trouble. I wish I was smarter. Draco looked up from his parchment, realizing that Pansy was still sitting next to him, watching intently. He sighed. "Why are you still here? I told you to go away." "But I like watching you work. Your forehead gets all scrunched up when you are thinking and it's so -" "I said, go away!" Draco shouted. "I can't concentrate with you staring at me like that and making nonsense comments!" Pansy backed up a bit, her eyes wide. Then she pouted. "Why aren't you nice to me anymore?" "Because, Pansy, you've grown rather annoying as of late and I'm getting tired of it, okay? So, if you could please go and find someone else to bother, I'm busy." Draco picked up his book and began flipping through the pages so that she would understand that their conversation was over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stand and walk away. Finally! he thought in relief. He rubbed his forehead. This essay was not going to be as easy as he had thought. They were expected to write an entire foot on it, and he had only found enough information to fill half. Why can't I write? All Malfoys have done well in school, and easily at that. I'm probably the only brainless one in the bunch. I just wish I weren't so daft! ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco and Brandon walked down one of the corridors that lined the edge of the inner courtyard, Crabbe and Goyle following behind. It was a nice Saturday morning, and so they were heading to one of the courtyards where there were several benches, to work on their Charms homework. They had learned the basic ones but now they needed to write a short bit about each one and examples of situations where they would come in handy. Also, they had Herbology homework to finish. They had to pick out a plant from their notes on Friday and write about it. They would probably be working on that Sunday night in the library, where they could look up more information about their plants.  
  
"So, you're trying out for Quidditch, right?" Brandon asked as they walked.  
  
Draco glanced back at Crabbe and Goyle, who were still following them. "You know, we're not going to the courtyard for anything fun. We're doing homework." At that, Crabbe and Goyle both gave him a wide-eyed expression and turned down another corridor. Easiest way to get rid of them when I want to do something productive. Anything dealing with homework, and they flee like its poison! Draco chuckled softly and looked at Brandon. "Oh, I'm trying out, that's for sure. Like I said last night, I've been playing Quidditch all of my life and unlike some," Draco said as Weasley and Potter passed them, "I can actually stay on my broom. My father says that I should be able to make it, even though the competition is tough."  
  
Brandon nodded. "I know what you mean. I've played Quidditch a lot with my older brothers, but I don't even know if that's going to be good enough for the team."  
  
Draco nodded. "That's what I'm worried about. I know my father expects me to be able to do everything easily, but I don't think he realizes that that's just not possible."  
  
"I know," Brandon said. "My father's the same way. He expects the impossible, and when I don't measure up to his standards, he gets angry."  
  
Draco smiled. "That makes two of us, but, although my father is strict, he's brilliant. He's just trying to make me a better person and if I can manage to excel in a lot of things, then maybe I can become just as good as he is."  
  
"My father talks about yours all the time; holds him up like a god, he does. 'Mr. Malfoy is exactly the man that you want to become, son. Be like him, and everything will work out easily.' That's what my father always says."  
  
They passed through a group of students and entered one of the side courtyards. They walked over to where two benches sat facing each other, and took out their Charms books, parchment, quills, and ink. Draco sprawled himself on his stomach on one of the benches, his plain black cloak falling over the sides. He rolled up the sleeves of dark gray turtleneck, and began writing. Brandon laid down on the other bench, doing the same. The sun felt good and a slight breeze passed over Draco's face, skimming his slicked back hair. That was another thing that his father had been adamant about; Draco was to always look good, no matter where he was, or what he was doing.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A few hours later, the sun began to set, and they had to pack up their things. Crabbe and Goyle had come by twice, seeing if they wanted to try some of the sweets that they had received from their parents. Draco had taken a pack of Cauldron Cakes, and that had lasted him through the rest of his homework. Crabbe and Goyle had waited around for awhile, but, seeing that Draco and Brandon weren't near the finish, they had left.  
  
Draco was sprawled out on one of the black leather couches in the common room, his eyes closed, when Crabbe and Goyle came in. "Oy! Draco! What are you doing?"  
  
Draco opened on eye to see them standing over him, looking down. "I was sleeping, until you two came and woke me up." Draco sat up, opening both of his eyes. He looked at Goyle's bandaged hand. "What happened?"  
  
"Book bit me."  
  
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
"I was looking at Sam's book and I guess I did something wrong because it bit me. It hurt too," Goyle said, wincing.  
  
"So that's where you've been? In the hospital wing?" Crabbe and Goyle nodded.  
  
"We couldn't find you, so we just went there," Crabbe said.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Madame Pomfrey knows what she's doing. You'll be fine now, in any case." He looked at them, raising his eyebrows. "Well, don't just stand there. You can sit down."  
  
They sat down and pulled out some sweets. Goyle held out a pack of opened Licorice Wands to Draco, who pulled a couple out. He bit into them. "Not bad."  
  
"Did you do your essay on Uric the Oddball?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"Yes, Crabbe," Draco said, sighing. "And yes, you can copy it later."  
  
"Thanks!" Crabbe said, grinning.  
  
"Me too?" Goyle asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "I don't care."  
  
"Oy! Draco!" Draco looked over his shoulder as Jeff, a tall black-haired first-year, walked over to him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Brandon told me that you're going to make the house team!" Jeff said excitedly.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I haven't made anything yet, Jeff. And it'll probably never happen." He smiled. "But it would be nice."  
  
"He told me that you've been playing Quidditch all of your life! That's wicked!"  
  
Draco shrugged. "I'm good," he admitted. He raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you played Quidditch before?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Jeff said, shrugging. "But not as long as you. My dad wouldn't let me near a broom until two years ago. He didn't trust me with them after I accidentally flew my broom into the manor. I couldn't help it, really, the broom was so old! It just didn't want to cooperate. But," Jeff said, grinning, "my dad said that if I made the Quidditch team, he would buy me a Nimbus Two-Thousand!"  
  
Draco grinned. "I want one of those so badly, but my father hasn't bought me one yet. Hopefully over Christmas I'll get one. They're wicked fast and I can't wait to fly one."  
  
"Me neither," Jeff said, still grinning. "We'll see in about two weeks. After Halloween, the first match will be held. Even if I don't get to play, I can't wait to see the match! I heard it's going to be against Gryffindor."  
  
Draco grinned. "Wouldn't that be nice if we could beat them? Then they wouldn't be too cocky anymore."  
  
Jeff nodded. "Flying Lessons begin next week. I wonder who we'll get paired up with?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "As long as it's not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I think I'll manage."  
  
Jeff nodded. "Definitely."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Much to Draco's dismay, however, they were paired up with Gryffindor. That Thursday, a notice had been placed in their common room and all the Slytherin first-year were groaning loudly. "Why does it have to be Gryffindor?" one of them complained.  
  
"Gryffindor hates us!" Pansy cried.  
  
"It's not just them; everyone hates us!" another replied.  
  
"They hate us the most though!"  
  
Draco pushed past the group of Slytherins that were crowded around the posting, and headed to breakfast, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.  
  
They sat down in their usual places underneath the large windows, and began eating. "I wonder what our Flying Lesson is going to be like," Goyle said, through a mouthful of sausage.  
  
"As long as you can stay on your broom, I don't think it matter," Draco said. "Especially since we're paired up with Gryffindor. We don't want to be going and making fools of ourselves in front of them."  
  
"I know," Brandon, who was sitting across from them, agreed. Terrace and Tawny were sitting next to Brandon.  
  
"Well, we know for sure that one Gryffindor will make a fool of himself," Terrace said.  
  
"Enlighten us," Draco said, smiling.  
  
"Longbottom."  
  
Draco laughed. "Good one Terrace. I don't think Longbottom could hold his broomstick, much less fly on it."  
  
"What about Harry Potter?" Tawny asked.  
  
Draco sneered. "Potter? He grew up with Muggles. What's he going to know about brooms? I wouldn't be surprised if he fell off of his too."  
  
"He grew up with Muggles?" Terrace asked.  
  
Draco nodded. "That's what I heard. My father told me that Potter had been living with Muggles all of his life, since his parents had been killed when You-Know-Who found them. And I bet he doesn't know a thing about Quidditch. I don't think he'd even know a Bludger if it hit him square in the face!" Draco said, laughing.  
  
Terrace, Tawny, and Brandon laughed along with him. "That would be funny," Brandon said.  
  
"Mail's here!" Crabbe called. Draco looked up to see the usual fleet of owls flying down from the openings in the ceiling. Draco spotted Mabol flying towards him, a package clutched in her talons. She dropped it off and Draco caught it.  
  
"What'd you get?" Terrace asked.  
  
Draco opened the letter that was attached.  
  
Dear Draco,  
  
I hope this tides you over for a bit. Inside are some of your favorite foods and sweets that I thought you might enjoy. How is school coming along? Are you making friends? I know you were so worried. Be sure to tell me what happens at Quidditch tryouts; your father is as anxious as I am to find out. I know that first-years don't usually make the house teams, but I think you are good enough. Good luck!  
  
Love, Mother  
  
Draco smiled. "My mother sent me a package."  
  
"Food?" Goyle asked.  
  
Draco sighed. "Yes, Goyle, and yes, you can have some."  
  
"Thanks!" Goyle cried, grinning.  
  
Crabbe opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off. "You can have some too, Crabbe."  
  
Crabbe smiled. "Wicked!"  
  
"I'm going to take this back to the common room and get my books. Coming?" Draco asked. Crabbe and Goyle nodded, stuffing some more food into their mouths. They stood.  
  
They were walking up the center aisle, past the Gryffindor table, when Draco spotted something in front of Longbottom. A Remembrall! I've never actually seen one of those up close!  
  
"It's a Remembrall!" Longbottom said. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it right like this and if it turns red - oh . . ." Longbottom held up the Remembrall as it glowed scarlet. ". . .you've forgotten something . . . The problem is, I don't remember what I've forgotten," Longbottom said, thinking.  
  
Draco took the Remembrall from Longbottom's hand, looking at it. Wicked. Draco looked up abruptly as Potter and Weasley jumped up, glaring at Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow. What are they going to do, fight me? Then Draco spotted Professor McGonagall walking over to them. Draco's eyes widenend.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Longbottom whined.  
  
Draco scowled at Longbottom, dropping it back onto the table. "I was just looking," he grumbled and walked away. What was their problem? I was just looking? It wasn't like I was going to take it! Can't someone just look at something, or is it against the law?  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
That afternoon, after a day indoors, they finally were released outside for their first Flying Lesson. The Slytherins walked out together, down the sloping lawns towards a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, where the trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Twenty broomsticks were lying on the ground. The cool breeze swept across Draco's face, moving his cloak, as they walked. It was a cool, breezy day, and Draco enjoyed the fresh air.  
  
They stood in a group, near the broomsticks, waiting for the Gryffindors to arrive. Draco straightened his green and silver tie and fixed the clasp on the front of his robe, the embroidered silver on his Slytherin badge lighting up in the sun. Draco glanced over to where their professor, Madame Hooch, was standing. She was a tall witch, with short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. Draco smiled. She doesn't look to bad. Maybe this class will be more fun that I had originally thought.  
  
The soft thud of footsteps brought Draco from his thoughts, as the Gryffindors arrived, taking their places near the brooms. The Slytherins took their places on the opposite side, some glaring at the Gryffindors. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were standing across from Draco, but he just ignored them, looking at their professor.  
  
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madame Hooch asked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." They stepped to the left of their broomsticks. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'UP!"  
  
"UP!" everyone shouted.  
  
Draco watched as Potter's broomstick immediately leapt into his hand. Draco looked at him curiously, shouting, "UP!" His broomstick leapt into his hand. How had Potter manage to do that?  
  
"UP!" Draco heard Weasley call and laughed when the broomstick handle flew up to hit him squarely in the face. Potter was laughing too. "Shut up, Harry," Weasley said, rubbing his face.  
  
Draco just shook his head and looked around at the rest of the students. Many of them were having trouble, and much to Draco's pleasure, Granger's broom just rolled around on the ground. Not so perfect, are we? He thought, grinning. Crabbe and Goyle finally managed to get their brooms into their hands and once everyone had their brooms, Madame Hooch had them mount them.  
  
She walked by, checking their handgrips. She stopped in front of Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, your hands should be placed like this," she said, correcting his grip. "It seems that you have been doing it wrong for years. Well, no matter, that can be fixed." She gave him a small smile and walked to the next student. Potter and Weasley were laughing at him and Draco glared darkly at them. What was their problem? Did they have to laugh at everything I do wrong? Weasley couldn't even get his broom up, so he has no right to be laughing. And Potter, what has he got against me? He's a horrible, stuck-up prat, and he has no right to laugh because he didn't even grow up with a proper family.  
  
"Now, when I blow my whistle," Madame Hooch said, bringing Draco from his thoughts, "you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"  
  
Draco watched, his eyes wide, as Longbottom pushed off too soon and was rising upwards, fast. "Come back, boy!" Madame Hooch shouted. The look on Longbottom's face made Draco snicker quietly. Longbottom, his face pure- white, was looking down at the ground, terrified. I know I shouldn't laugh, but it is rather funny. I mean, even I'm not that stupid to take off before she blew her whistle!  
  
Suddenly Longbottom fell off his broom, landing with a loud 'THUD!', face down in the grass. His broomstick, meanwhile, had taken a mind of its own, and was now heading into the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Madame Hooch rushed over to Longbottom, kneeling next to him. She held his wrist tenderly, her face white. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She helped Longbottom to his feet, still holding his wrist. He was white as a sheet and trembling. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."  
  
As soon as Madame Hooch had left, Draco let loose his laughter, shaking his head. A bunch of the Slytherins around him were laughing as well. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Draco asked, shaking with laughter.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," one of the Gryffindors snapped.  
  
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" asked Pansy. Draco smiled. At least she would always stand by him; that was good. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."  
  
Draco looked at the grass and spotted Longbottom's Remembrall. "Look!" he said, bending down and picking it up. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." Draco held it up for the rest of the Slytherins to see, who were snickering.  
  
"Give that here, Malfoy," Potter said, stepping forward.  
  
Draco looked at him and sneered. Everyone was quiet around them. "No, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"  
  
"Give it here!" Potter yelled, but Draco was too quick. He leapt onto his broom and glided through the group of students, hovering in the air above their heads. He tossed the Remembrall up, catching it, looking down at Potter with a smile on his face.  
  
"What's the matter, Potter? A bit beyond your reach?"  
  
Draco watched in satisfaction as Potter reached for his broom. Granger grabbed him, saying something, but Potter ignored her, mounting his broom, and taking off. He turned the broomstick to face Draco. Draco's eyes went wide. Where had Potter learned to fly like that?  
  
"Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off that broom!" Potter yelled.  
  
Draco regained his composure, putting on a confident face. "Is that so?" Draco said, sneering. Could he really do it? Draco thought worriedly. Suddenly Potter shot forward, and Draco spun around his broom. When he had righted himself, he looked at Potter, very worried now. Potter could easily knock me off of here!  
  
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Potter said.  
  
Draco sneered at him, trying to cover the slight fear that clutched him inside. "Have it your way then!" Draco called and heaved the Remembrall towards the woods. Draco watched, stunned, as Potter shot past him, after the Remembrall. Draco brought his broom back onto the ground and stood next to Crabbe and Goyle, watching as Potter dove after the ball. Draco's eyes went wide as Potter snatched the ball out of the air, toppling the few feet to the grass.  
  
"HARRY POTTER!" Draco looked to see Professor McGonagall running towards them. Draco smirked. Potter was going to get it now. Even his fame won't save him this time.  
  
Potter stood, still holding the ball in his fist. "Never - in all my time at Hogwarts - how dare you - might have broken your neck -"  
  
"It wasn't his fault, Professor -" Parvati said.  
  
"Be quiet, Miss Patil -"  
  
"But Mafloy -" Weasley began.  
  
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."  
  
Draco smirked, watching as Potter followed McGonagall into the castle.  
  
Madame Hooch came back out, looking at the crowd. "What happened?" she asked.  
  
"Potter got in trouble with Professor McGonagall," Draco said simply. "He was flying his broomstick when he shouldn't have been."  
  
Madame Hooch shook her head. "Well, Professor McGonagall will take care of that, I am sure." A bell sounded in the distance. "Well, you'd had better head back to your common rooms. Dinner will be served shortly."  
  
Draco walked beside Crabbe and Goyle; Pansy, Terrace, Brandon, and Tawny following behind. "What an idiot, diving after that Remembrall," Draco said, laughing, trying to conceal a twinge of nervousness inside him. Potter can fly, there's no doubt about that. But how?  
  
"He wouldn't have done that if you hadn't provoked him, Malfoy," a Gryffindor said as the lot of them walked by.  
  
Draco just rolled his eyes.  
  
"Potter's in for it now," Pansy said, smirking.  
  
"The Famous Harry Potter, already in trouble," Brandon said, laughing. "Professor Snape was right. Fame isn't everything."  
  
"Yeah," Draco said, laughing, but he was still shaken from the encounter with Potter. 


	4. Halloween

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter Four  
  
-Halloween -  
  
Draco mused silently during dinner. I need to find some way to get back at Potter for what he did at Flying. He had no right to laugh at me, and then what he did up in the air. He nearly knocked me off my broom! He nearly humiliated me, and I hope he gets in severe trouble for what he did. Of course, if I know the Famous Harry Potter, he'll probably weasel his way out of punishment. That's just not fair! He should be treated like the rest of us, but instead he's held up as some sort of idol. Dumbledore just adores Harry Potter and it's just not right that the rest of us get into trouble and he doesn't, or if he does, he gets out of it. Well, Potter, you don't go making enemies with Malfoys. If there's one thing I've learned from all of my father's lessons, it's never to back off when people like that make you look bad.  
  
Draco glanced up from his steak, taking a bite, and looked over at the Gryffindor table. He smirked, looking at Potter and Weasley. I bet Potter isn't going to last much longer here, especially after that stunt he pulled with the broom! Let's see, what to do. I know, a duel. Potter would never back down on a wizard duel, especially if he was cocky enough to think he could beat me! And I bet he'd love to duel me; of course, that's if it's an actual duel. I think Filch would be pleased to find some students out of bed and if it just so happened that it was Potter and Weasley, all the better. Then they'd be out of my hair and I wouldn't have to put up with them and their snide little comments about me.  
  
"Come on," Draco said, standing. "I want to talk to Potter."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle nodded, standing. "Can we come back and finish?" Goyle asked.  
  
Draco nodded. "Of course you can, I just want to do this now, before they run off to their little common room high up in their almighty tower." How come Gryffindors get to have windows and we're stuck in the dungeons? It's just not fair. Of course, as my father always says, life isn't fair, so deal with it.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco as he wound himself over to the Gryffindor table. The Weasley twins had just left and Draco saw his chance. "Having a last meal, Potter?" Draco asked, smirking. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"  
  
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Potter said coolly.  
  
Draco didn't let his composure drop for an instant. "I'll take you on anytime on my own," Draco said coldly, sneering down at Potter. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact." Draco smirked at the look on Potter's face, which hinted confusion. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"  
  
"Of course he has," Weasley said. "I'm his second, who's yours?"  
  
Perfect. Draco thought, laughing silently. They fell for it! Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, and then looked back at Potter and Weasley. "Crabbe," Draco said shortly. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."  
  
With that, Draco spun on his heels and walked away, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After dinner, Draco glanced around to make sure nobody was close by, and headed towards Filch, who was walking down a corridor, Mrs. Norris at his heels. Draco had told Crabbe and Goyle that he was going to the library, and they had immediately run off.  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Filch?" Draco called.  
  
Filch stopped, looking back at Draco, his face expressionless. "You need something, Mr. Malfoy?" Filch asked. Filch, of course, knew who Draco's father was, and wasn't about to be nasty to Lucius' son, or he would face the consequences. Draco smirked. Those wouldn't be pleasant.  
  
"I just wanted to notify you that I overheard Potter and his friends talking." Filch looked interested and Draco smiled. They're in for it now! "I heard them say that they wanted to go see the trophy room, but they didn't want to go when there were students around, so they were going to sneak in at midnight, tonight. I also heard that they were going to do something to the trophies."  
  
Filch growled angrily. "Stupid kids, always trying to make me do more work, messing up everything."  
  
"Weasley's going to be there too."  
  
Filch sneered. "A Weasley. Good. Those twins are nothing but trouble."  
  
"Just thought I'd let you know," Draco said and headed back to the common room, smirking all the way.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
When Draco entered the common room, Crabbe and Goyle were no where to be seen, but Brandon, Terrace, and Tawny were sitting on the couches. He walked down the steps and walked over to them, sitting down on the couch next to Brandon. "Hi Draco," Terrace said.  
  
"What are you smiling about?" Tawny asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "I just found a way to get Potter and Weasley expelled," he said simply.  
  
They all looked at him wide-eyed. "Well, come on then, don't hold us in suspense! Tell us!" Brandon urged.  
  
"I just dropped a little hint to Filch that Potter and Weasley would be in the trophy room at midnight."  
  
"Yeah, Crabbe said something about a duel," Terrace said.  
  
Draco nodded. "That's what I used for bait, and they fell for it! How thick can you get?" Draco said, laughing.  
  
The others laughed too. "I suppose Potter won't be joining us for breakfast tomorrow," Tawny said, still laughing.  
  
"It's about time!" Brandon exclaimed. "Potter always gets out of everything, so he should finally get in trouble."  
  
The three of them nodded. "I know," Terrace said.  
  
"Well," Draco said, standing. "I'm going to go finish my Potions essay. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
The three of them nodded and Draco left, heading upstairs to his room. It was empty, thankfully, and Draco took out his Potions book from his trunk. He sat down on his bed and began writing his essay on Truth Serums. They would be learning how to make them soon, and Snape wanted them to research first.  
  
After two feet, he stopped. The assignment had been only a foot, but Draco wanted to do his best, and that meant doing extra. He just had to prove that he was the top of his class because if he didn't get the highest grades, he was done for with his father.  
  
Draco put away his book and finished essay, and pulled on his pajamas. He slid into his bed, closing the drapes. He laid back and closed his eyes, soon falling into a deep sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~ The next morning at breakfast, Draco sat at his seat, stunned. How come Potter and Weasley are still here? He slammed his fist down on the table, making Crabbe and Goyle both jump.  
  
"What's the matter?" Goyle asked.  
  
"Potter," Draco growled. "How did he manage to weasel his way out of that? I had it perfectly set up!"  
  
"Potter's always getting out of everything," Crabbe said, munching on his toast.  
  
"Are you going to eat that?" Goyle asked, pointing to Draco's half-finished breakfast.  
  
"No, you can have it. I suddenly lost my appetite."  
  
Goyle pulled Draco's plate over next to his own, and began eating. Draco glared at Potter, not even paying attention as the mail arrived. He watched an owl drop a long package into Potter's hands. Potter looked surprised and was opening a note, reading it. He began talking excitedly with Weasley. I wonder what that is. Draco thought. Well, if it what I think it is, Potter is going to get into big trouble, and he'd better not get out of it! How come he gets presents and a broomstick on top of it? It's just not fair!  
  
As breakfast concluded, Draco, not wanting Potter and Weasley to get out before him, grabbed Crabbe and Goyle and left the Great Hall. They waited on the steps that were to right of the entrance into the Great Hall. These steps, Draco knew, wound their way up to the Gryffindor common room, and Potter and Weasley would be heading this way, probably to open the little package. Sure enough, the two of them ran out of the Great Hall just then, looking excited. They skidded to a stop in front of Draco, who was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco had his arms crossed. Draco reached out quickly, snatching the package from Potter, feeling it. Exactly what I thought, a broomstick. How did he get one, and why?  
  
Draco tossed the package back to Potter. "That's a broomstick," Draco said, feeling jealousy rise inside of him. Why does he get a broomstick and I don't? Why didn't father buy me one? "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first-years aren't allowed them."  
  
"It's not any old broomstick," Weasley said, looking at Draco smugly. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand." Draco gritted his teeth in anger, and he could feel his hands clenching into fists. That's not fair! That's the broomstick I want and how come Potter gets one and my father didn't send me one! Potter didn't even do anything special! Oh, he's in for it now. Once the professors find out, he's going to be in trouble. "What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Weasley grinned at Potter. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."  
  
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Draco snapped, angry that a Weasley was talking to him like this. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."  
  
"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" Draco heard a squeaky voice ask.  
  
Draco glanced down to his right and saw Professor Flitwick standing there, barely reaching Draco's elbow. "Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Draco said quickly. Now he's going to get it.  
  
"Yes, yes, that's right," Professor Flitwick said, beaming at Potter. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"  
  
Draco could barely contain his rage and shock, and he knew that his face had grown dark with anger. Special circumstances? Stupid prat, just because he's famous, doesn't mean he should get things that the rest of us can't have. How come he gets special treatment? It's not fair to the rest of us who actually have to work for things! He just breezes through everything! First, no punishment, and second, he gets a broomstick!  
  
"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," Potter said. Draco glared at Potter, who was trying to contain silent laughter. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added. Potter and Weasley brushed past Draco, heading to their common room, laughing.  
  
Draco bristled with anger and confusion. What did I - oh no, not that stupid Flying Lesson incident! He got rewarded for that little stunt? Draco stomped his foot, crossing his arms. Potter is going to get it one of these day, and that time, he won't be able to worm his way out of it. When my father hears of this, Potter is going to be in for it.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Halloween came quickly, and Draco couldn't wait for the dinner feast. He knew it was going to be brilliant. Although he was still slightly angered that they hadn't even let the first-years near the pitch during Quidditch tryouts, he couldn't wait until their first match. In two weeks, their first match would be against Gryffindor. Katrina Bletchley, a fourth year, had made the spot for Keeper, but he didn't have any problem with it because she was pleasant and didn't rub it in their faces that she had made it. Instead, she was really nice and she had even helped Draco with his Transfiguration homework the previous night and for that he was eternally grateful because they were having a test next week on what they had covered, and he hadn't understood a thing until she had explained it.  
  
That morning, the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafted through the corridors. And the best part came later in the day, during Charms. Draco had been anxiously waiting for Professor Flitwick to teach them out to make objects fly and that day, Flitwick announced that he thought that they were ready.  
  
Draco sat in his seat up front, barely containing his excitement. Flitwick had paired them off and Draco was with Brandon. Crabbe had been paired off with Terrace and Goyle had been paired off with Millicent Bulstrode.  
  
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing," Flitwick said, standing on top of his pile of books. He looked around at them and they watched him, nodding. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."  
  
Draco nodded and looked down at his feather in front of him. "Swish and flick, right," Draco said softly. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he said with a swish and flick. Nothing happened. Brandon was having similar luck and started shaking his wand at it. "Stop, you're going to poke someone's eye out with that thing," Draco said, holding up his hand.  
  
Brandon glared at his feather. "Ruddy feather, why won't you fly," he muttered.  
  
"Maybe we're saying it wrong, or something." Brandon just grumbled. Draco sighed. "Well, come on then, let's try again." Draco looked back at his feather and tried once again, but the feather just sat there, unmoving.  
  
"Looks like Granger's having no problem," Brandon muttered, nodding his head to the other side of the room. Draco looked at the rows across from them and up at the third row where Potter, Weasley, and Granger were sitting. Granger had indeed levitated her feather, and it was now floating a few feet up in the air. Draco glared. She doesn't even have pure-blood and she can do everything. It's not fair. Well, as long as she doesn't get special treatment like Potter, but it's still rather annoying. I should be able to do all this stuff, but instead, a Mudblood beats me! How am I to excel when Granger just stomps me in the dust?  
  
"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick cried, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"  
  
Suddenly a loud explosion filled the room and Draco burst out laughing, seeing that Finnigan, a Gryffindor first-year, had blown up his feather and his face was now black and his hair stood on end. The rest of the Slytherins joined in Draco's laughter.  
  
"Hey Finnigan, we better not let you near any firecrackers, huh? You'd probably blow us all up!" a Slytherin yelled. The rest of the Slytherins howled with laughter.  
  
Draco watched as Finnigan ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. Draco felt slightly bad for him, but he had to admit, it was funny.  
  
"He looks pretty funny," Crabbe said, laughing.  
  
"His face is all black!" Goyle said, laughing.  
  
Draco snickered. "It is."  
  
The Gryffindors just glared.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After Transfiguration, they headed into the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. Even Draco had to admit that the decorations were impressive. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The fest appeared suddenly on the golden plates and they began eating.  
  
Draco was helping himself to a second-helping of mashed potatoes when the huge doors of the Great Hall slammed open and Professor Quirrell came sprinting in, his turban askew and terror all over his face. The spoon that was in Draco's hand dropped to the table, his hand motionless. He watched with wide-eyes and an open mouth as Quirrell ran down the center aisle.  
  
"Troll! Troll in the dungeons! Thought you ought to know." Then he collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint.  
  
The Great Hall went up in an uproar. Draco jumped up, screaming. A troll! What if it comes here? He thought frantically. He stumbled off of the bench, trying to get into the swarm of students that were rushing for the door. Screams and yells filled the hall.  
  
"SILENCE!" Dumbledore yelled above the din.  
  
Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, looking at Dumbledore, their eyes wide and faces full of fear. Draco swallowed, fear gripping him in the chest.  
  
"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories. Professors, follow me to the dungeons," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Slytherins, follow me! First-years this way!" Adrien Lanart called. Draco could hear the other prefects calling their houses to them. The mass of students began moving slowly.  
  
As they walked down the stairs to their common room, Draco looked at Brandon. "How could a troll get in?" Draco asked.  
  
"Don't ask me; I thought trolls were supposed to be stupid," Brandon said.  
  
"But the troll is in the dungeons," Goyle said.  
  
"Goyle, we're in the dungeons!" Draco cried. This sent the rest of the first-years yelling and scrambling again, this time up the stairs.  
  
"STOP!" Adrien yelled and the first-years froze. They looked back at him, terror on their faces. "We don't have to worry about the troll; as long as you stick with me, we'll be fine! Now please, follow me back to the common room. The professors are taking care of it. Just stay calm." When the first-years began moving down the steps, slowly, Adrien let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Now come along." He turned and they followed him down the stairs, through the large arched corridor to the end and into their common room.  
  
All the students were talking nervously to each other, glancing around, as if they were expecting the troll to come barging in at any second. Finally, they heard the stone slide and Professor Snape came into their common room. He was limping slightly, but his face was as cold as always, betraying no evidence of pain. The Slytherins looked at him, waiting for him to speak. "The troll is taken care of. You can go to your beds now. There's nothing to worry about." With a swirl of his cloak, he was gone and the common room regained the previous high noise level.  
  
"I wonder how they managed it?" Draco said thoughtfully.  
  
Brandon shrugged. "Who knows?"  
  
"Maybe they wrestled it," Crabbe said.  
  
Draco and Brandon both looked at him. "You can't wrestle a troll, Crabbe," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "It'd step on you first."  
  
Crabbe just shrugged. "Just a thought."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
As they entered November, the incident with the troll flew from their minds as they focused on the very exciting event that was coming up: the first Quidditch match of the season.  
  
During the morning of the Quidditch match, the Great Hall was filled with excited voices chattering. "Did you know, I heard that Potter made the Quidditch team!" Terrace exclaimed.  
  
"What?" Draco said, his face darkening. "Potter? Are you sure?"  
  
Terrace nodded. "I overheard the professors talking about it last night when I was heading back from the library. They said that they were keeping it a secret until the first match, something about the captain of the Gryffindor team wanting to use surprise as a secret weapon, or something like that."  
  
"I don't believe this. Potter made his house team?" Draco growled. "First- years weren't even allowed to try out! That's not right. Just because he's famous doesn't give him the right to special privileges."  
  
"Exactly," Tawny agreed.  
  
"I don't think we have anything to worry about." Draco looked at Marcus Flint, who had been listening. "Even if Potter managed to weasel his way onto the team, he's just a first-year and he doesn't know the first thing about Quidditch. He'll probably make a fool of himself," Marcus said, laughing.  
  
Draco smiled and then laughed. "You're probably right," Draco said. "I bet he won't even stay on his broom for more than two seconds with those Bludgers coming towards him!"  
  
"I thought he flew well in the lesson," Crabbe said.  
  
Draco looked at him. "That was in a lesson, and he was only a few feet from the ground. He's going to be hundreds of feet above the ground during the match and with the Bludgers trying to knock him off of his broom? Hah, he won't last." But Draco wasn't so sure. He had seen Potter fly and he grudgingly admitted that Potter wasn't all that bad. Still, a match was completely different from a lesson.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After breakfast, the students bundled up in their cloaks, scarves, and gloves, and headed out to the Quidditch pitch. Draco stood up near the ledge that was in the front of the student stands, looking around the empty pitch. The players would be coming out soon. Draco leaned his arms on the ledge, his green and silver banner in his hands. He smiled. We'll beat Gryffindor for sure. We smashed them last year, according to Marcus, so this match shouldn't be any different. I can't wait to see the look on the Gryffindors' faces when we beat them. Even if they have Potter. That still doesn't make any sense, though. How did he manage to weasel his way onto the team? I didn't even get a chance to try out. In my opinion, he's getting too many special privileges and it's not fair to the rest of us.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts' first Quidditch match of the season!" the announcer called as the players flew out from down below. Draco recognized the voice as the boy that always hung out with the Weasley twins. Great, a Gryffindor announcer. This will be fair. Cheers erupted in the stands. "Today's match: Slytherin versus Gryffindor!" The Slytherins yelled loudly, waving their banners, as were the Gryffindors. "Madame Hooch steps out on the pitch to begin the game." Draco watched as the players formed a circle, hovering above Madame Hooch. The Gryffindor team faced the Slytherin team. The two Seekers, Terence Higgs and Potter, hovered above the players. Madame Hooch opened the chest, releasing the Bludgers and the golden Snitch. "The Bludgers erupt, followed by the golden Snitch! Remember, the golden Snitch is worth 150 points. Whichever Seeker catches the Snitch, ends the game." Draco could see that Madame Hooch was giving them a talk, but then she reached down into the trunk and pulled out the Quaffle. Draco grinned, waiting in anticipation. Crabbe and Goyle were yelling loudly on either side of him. Madame Hooch threw the Quaffle up into the air. "The Quaffle is released and the game begins! And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"  
  
"JORDAN!" Draco heard Professor McGonagall say.  
  
"Sorry, Professor," the Gryffindor announcer said. Draco rolled his eyes. Pathetic. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle."  
  
"Yes!" Draco yelled, watching as Marcus flew towards their goal.  
  
"Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc - no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger."  
  
The Slytherins howled with laughter and cheers as Slytherin took possession of the Quaffle. Adrian sped towards their goal, the Quaffle tucked under his arm.  
  
"That's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"  
  
"BOO!" Draco yelled as the Slytherins moaned loudly.  
  
Draco watched as Potter did a stupid victory dance, looping around on his broom. Draco rolled his eyes. It was just one goal. Don't get your hopes up. Draco turned his attention back to the game. He watched as one of the Weasleys hit a Bludger toward Marcus, who ducked and sped towards their goal. Marcus heaved the Quaffle towards the hoop, but the Gryffindor Keeper blocked it.  
  
The Slytherins howled with laughter when Marcus took one of the Beater's bats and hit a Bludger towards the Keeper, knocking him to the ground.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"  
  
The Slytherins' laughter quickly turned to groans but Adrian had the Quaffle now.  
  
"Slytherin in possession. Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers and Chaser Bell, and speeds towards the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"  
  
Draco watched as Potter and Terence hurtled towards the ground, neck and neck. Then he glanced up as Marcus stood up on his broomstick and jumped over one of the Weasleys. He took the Quaffle and scored.  
  
The Slytherins cheered loudly and Draco turned his attention back to the Seekers, where the announcer's attention obviously was, since he had grown quiet. Suddenly, Marcus flew in front of Potter, deliberately blocking him. The Slytherins were laughing as Potter spun off course.  
  
The Gryffindors, however, were booing loudly and yelling.  
  
"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating -"  
  
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled.  
  
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul -" "Jordan, I'm warning you -"  
  
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."  
  
Draco watched as Marcus and Adrian placed themselves on either side of one of the Gryffindor Chasers and sent her flying behind one of the cloth hangings on the towers. The Slytherins cheered as Adrian had the Quaffle and was now speeding towards their goal. He passed it to Marcus.  
  
"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - Slytherins score - oh no . . ."  
  
The Slytherins cheered loudly. They were now tied with Gryffindor. Draco heard gasps around him. "Look!" someone cried. Draco looked up and his eyes went wide as he watched Potter bucking around on his broomstick. The Slytherins began laughing.  
  
"Slip!" Crabbe yelled.  
  
Draco let a small smile creep across his face. He laughed. It would serve him right if he fell. Then he'd realize that he doesn't belong up there and that he shouldn't be on the team until the rest of us get a chance.  
  
Draco glanced as Marcus scored several times, but everyone was too busy watching as Potter tried to hold onto his broomstick. Draco looked back at Potter. Suddenly, his broomstick bucked and Potter flew off. Now he was only holding on by one hand, his broomstick still waving around in the air. Nice little show, Potter.  
  
Then his broomstick went still and Draco watched as Potter swung himself back onto his broomstick and sped towards the ground. Near the ground, he tumbled off of his broomstick and stood up. His hands flew to his stomach and he looked like he was going to be sick. The crowds went silent and Draco watched intently. Suddenly Potter coughed and something landed in his hands.  
  
"Harry Potter has caught the golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" the announcer yelled.  
  
"No!" Draco yelled, putting his face in his hands. I don't believe it! We lost! And all because of Potter! 


	5. Christmas

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter Five  
  
-Christmas -  
  
Draco sat in Potions during a particularly cold December Friday, measuring out powdered spine of lionfish. He kept close to his hot cauldron, trying to stay as warm as possible. His scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck.  
  
"So, are you going home for the Christmas holiday?" Brandon asked.  
  
"Of course, unlike some people," Draco said. He looked pointedly at Potter, who was measuring his lionfish, as he spoke, "I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. "At least we get to go home," Goyle said as Draco turned back around, putting the powdered spine into the boiling cauldron.  
  
"Yeah, we're wanted," Crabbe said.  
  
Draco just laughed.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After Potions, they were heading back to their common room when they stopped, seeing that a large fir tree was blocking the corridor ahead. Draco rolled his eyes. It's cold enough down here. Why is that oaf going and blocking the corridors for? Honestly, didn't he have the courtesy to keep it out of the way? Draco spotted Potter and Weasley standing behind the fir. Why are they just standing there, blocking the way?  
  
"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Draco asked coldly. "Or are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gameKeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."  
  
Suddenly Weasley dove at Draco, grabbing the front of Draco's robes. Draco looked at him wide-eyed and then sneered as he saw Snape walk up. "WEASLEY!"  
  
Weasley let go of Draco's robes and looked at Snape. Draco smirked and brushed his robes.  
  
"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, looking from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."  
  
"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," Snape said. Draco grinned. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."  
  
Draco smirked. Serves him right for lunging at me like that! Those Weasleys are so troublesome! Draco brushed past the large tree, Crabbe and Goyle following. As they walked, Draco looked at them. "I'm going to go to the library. You two coming?" Crabbe and Goyle both shook their heads and Draco nodded. "Alright then, I'll see you later."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle walked off and Draco turned down a corridor, heading for the library. Once there, he walked over to one of the large tables in the center and pulled out his Potions and Transfiguration books, and sat down to begin his homework.  
  
A few hours later, Terrace came over and asked for help with his Potions. After showing him where to find the information, Draco turned back to his own homework.  
  
Finally, around midnight, Draco finished and headed back to the common room. It was empty as he walked through it and up to his room. I wish I didn't have to study so much or work so hard on my homework. That homework should have been easy, but it's just not. I hope father won't get angry that I'm not top of my class. Wait until he hears that a Mudblood is top. That'll really make him happy.  
  
Draco pulled on his pajamas and slid into his bed. He closed the drapes and went to sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Hogwarts mercifully let their students go, but not until after giving them a nice round of testing and loads of homework. Draco knew that he was going to end up spending his entire holiday working on the load that the professors had given him. Oh well, Draco thought as he sat in the back of the car, heading back to Malfoy Manor. At least it'll give me something to do other than wander the corridors aimlessly. I hope it won't be as boring as it was last year. I thought I was going to die of boredom, just sitting there in my room. Maybe I'll get my broomstick! Draco thought happily. I deserve one if Potter got one.  
  
When they reached the manor, Draco took his trunk and cage with Mabol up to his room silently. As he opened the door, he looked around. High arched ceiling, two large windows, one smaller window, a huge closet, a large four- poster bed, thick, expensive carpets that covered most of the dark wood floor, dark wood paneled walls; this was his home. He sighed and set the trunk at the foot of his bed. He took Mabol's cage over to a table near the smaller window and opened the cage door. He opened the window and Mabol hooted, flying out into the night.  
  
Draco walked over to his bed and sat down, his feet dangling. It was slightly chilly in his room, but not even close to the temperature of the dungeons in which they had their some of their classes. He took off his scarf and gloves, laying them on his bed. He flopped down on his back, looking up at the drapes that covered the top of his bed, his cloak spread around him. He took his wand out of his pocket and looked at it. Then he sighed, setting it down on the bed.  
  
After a few minutes, the complete silence began to annoy him. He had grown used to the loudness of the common room and to Crabbe and Goyle running into the room, talking loudly. In a way, he would even miss Potter, because that had given him something to laugh about, although every time he thought about Potter, anger rose in his chest. It just wasn't fair, Draco thought for the thousandth time. Potter gets everything. Friends, special privileges. And I don't think he realizes how lucky he is to be on the Quidditch team! I would have given anything to be on the team! I've been dreaming about it for years! Then he just waltzes right in and gets put on the team! Just because he's famous! And on top of the, he gets a Nimbus Two-Thousand, the broom I want so badly! Even though he doesn't have a proper family, he has a better life than I'll ever have. Sure, I love my father and I admire him deeply, but I get this horrible feeling that my father is disappointed in me. I've tried to hard to be the perfect son, but I don't think I'm good enough. I don't think I'll ever be good enough for him. My mother tries to reassure me that he loves me very much, but I think it's just words. She never speaks up against my father; I think she's afraid to. Then there's the Dark Magic. The secret passageway underneath the manor holds all of our Dark Arts things and sure, they're really interesting, but is it what I want? I don't know what my father is doing with all that stuff; if the ministry ever found out, he'd be taken away to Azkaban, and that's the last thing I need or want! I don't know what I'd do without my father; or my mother for that matter. The Dark Arts fascinate me, but I don't want to make the wrong choices. Then there's the Dark Lord himself. I know he was defeated by Potter, but he's still out there, I know that. What if he comes back? What will happen to my family? What would happen to me?  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Later that evening, Draco finally made his way downstairs and into the large dining hall. A plate of food sat at the far end and Draco walked over to it, sitting down. He ate his dinner silently, looking around at the tapestries. Another meal by myself, Draco thought. It always turns out that way. I miss Hogwarts and the Great Hall.  
  
He was finishing his desert when his mother walked in. She looked at him, smiling. "Draco, I'm so glad that you're finally home. I've missed you very much. You received my packages and letters?"  
  
Draco nodded, swallowing. He stood up, walking over to his mother. "I missed you too, mother," Draco said, hugging her. He pulled back.  
  
Her eyes scanned his face. "You've changed so much in these past few months," she said, smiling. "And you're at least two inches taller. When your father comes home, you'll have to tell us all about what's happened at Hogwarts. Your letters told us a little, but I'm sure there are other things."  
  
Draco managed a smile. "Sure, mother," he said. Great, I get to disappoint my father. Just what I was looking forward to. Oh well, I suppose the conversation had to come sooner or later.  
  
"Why don't we go sit in the den and you can tell me all about your friends," she said, smiling.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Okay," he said and followed her into the den.  
  
"As you said in your letters, you've adjusted nicely. That is always good," she said, sitting on the couch. Draco sat down next to her.  
  
He nodded. "Crabbe and Goyle are with me wherever I go, practically." He smiled. "Except for the library."  
  
Narcissa laughed. "I didn't suppose that they would want to go in there. They were never the type to do homework."  
  
"No, they aren't," Draco said. "Brandon usually studies with me and sometimes Terrance and Tawny."  
  
"That is so nice to hear," Narcissa said, smiling. Draco didn't know why, but for some reason, his mother seemed a little aloof and her recent letters had not been as long as the first few. Draco hoped it wasn't anything bad.  
  
"Draco," a cool voice said from the doorway. Draco looked up and immediately jumped to his feet.  
  
"Father," he said quickly.  
  
Lucius stood in the doorway, his white hair gleaming in the light from the fire. He held his staff in his left hand, the snake head glittering. "It's good to see that you've finally arrived back from Hogwarts. I trust your first term went well?"  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, nodding. He watched as his father walked over to a chair, his black cape swirling behind him. He sat down in the high- backed chair, watching Draco intently as he sat down on the couch.  
  
"How did Quidditch tryouts go?" his father asked.  
  
Draco swallowed. He had avoided saying anything about it thus far, and hadn't written anything about it in his letters. He had really hoped that his father wouldn't ask him about it, but that was like wishing for the moon. "Well," Draco started, not sure where to begin, "I - I didn't make it," he finally said. He tensed, waiting for his father to lash out at him, but it never came.  
  
His father looked at him coolly. "I see. And why not?" he asked, his voice cold and emotionless.  
  
"They wouldn't let first-years try out at all."  
  
"Then why is Potter on the team?"  
  
Draco winced. "You know about that?"  
  
"Of course I do, boy, I'm not deaf," his father snapped.  
  
Draco bit his lip and swallowed. "I'm sorry, father, I didn't mean to upset you."  
  
"Yes, yes," his father said with a wave of his hand. "Well, I expect you to make it next year, understood?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, father."  
  
"Has Potter managed to get any more special privileges?"  
  
"Of course," Draco said bitterly. "He hardly ever gets into trouble and he always manages to worm his way out if he does. And they always bend the rules for him. That Muggle-lover Dumbledore adores Potter. He even got a Nimbus Two-Thousand." Draco slammed his fist into his palm. "It's not fair to the rest of us! Why does Potter get all the special treatment? Just because he's famous! And what's even better, he doesn't even care! He flaunts it like he's so special, but he's not! He's just a stupid prat! He didn't even know what Quidditch was before he came here!" Draco could feel some tears welling up in his eyes. "I wanted to make that team so badly! It meant so much to me! Then first-years weren't even allowed to try out, but Potter still managed to get in. And he acts like it's no big deal! It's not fair that he should have everything and the rest of us get left in the dirt!" Draco pulled his knees up and hugged them, burying his face in his knees. He could feel tears tricking down his cheeks and at that point, he didn't care what his father thought and that he wasn't supposed to show emotion, or cry because it showed weakness. "It's not fair," Draco said quietly, sobbing. "It's just not."  
  
"You deal with this," Draco heard his father say. Draco heard a door shut and then arms wrapped themselves around him. Draco turned his head, burying it in his mother's arms.  
  
"Why does Potter get everything? What makes him so special and above the rest of us?" Draco asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.  
  
"Love, you're very special too," Narcissa said, putting her hand under Draco's chin, lifting his face. He looked up at her. She smiled. "Don't you ever forget that. Just because some people think that they are better than you because they get special treatment doesn't mean that they are. It is not your abilities that make who you are; it is your choices. Harry Potter may choose to flaunt what he has, but that is his choice, and while it may not be the right one, it is what he chose to do. You have your own choices to make. You were fortunate to be born into a good family and you have grown up with a family. Harry Potter never did have a proper family; he was raised by Muggles, but that doesn't make him a bad person. Just as your family does not decide what kind of person you are. I know your father expects impossible things of you, but you have to understand what he has gone through to become what he is now. His father didn't set standards for him and Lucius wanted to become something greater. He worked hard to bring you what you see around you, and you have to remember, no matter what, he loves you. I know that he doesn't always seem like he cares, but inside, he is in turmoil. He has pushed himself to his limits and beyond and he just wants you to push yourself to be your very best."  
  
"But I'm just going to disappoint him," Draco said softly, looking down.  
  
"Draco, nobody is perfect and you can't expect to be. But you cannot wallow in sorrow either. You have to choose to rise above the rest, or else your life will be meaningless. You have to trust that your father knows what is best. Do not worry about disappointing him. He will proud of you; no matter what."  
  
Draco shook his head. "I don't think so, mother. He knows what he wants me to be, and he knows that I'll never be his perfect son. I can see it in his face when he looks at me!" Draco said, looking up at his mother. "I'm weak and I'm stupid, and no matter what I do, I'll always disappoint him."  
  
"Draco, don't talk like that," Narcissa said sharply.  
  
"But it's true!"  
  
"You don't know that. Your father struggles constantly with himself, always trying to improve. If you see disappointment on his face, it's not because of you; it's because he looks down on himself. He wants you to have a good life and he doesn't want you to make the same mistakes that he did."  
  
"You're wrong."  
  
"Draco -"  
  
"No," Draco said, pushing himself away. He stood. "I admire father so much that it really cuts into me when I disappoint him. I don't deserve to bear the name of Malfoy! I'm nothing! Don't you understand that? Potter has proven that to me numerous times! I try and try, but I just never seem to be good enough! And then Granger comes in and she's not even pure- blood! Yet she's top of our class and she's brilliant! She doesn't even have to try and she excels at everything! And Potter's the same way! I don't even think he realizes it!" Draco shook his head. "No, he doesn't. He's a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for and on top of that, he has tons of friends and he flies like a natural! He had never even been near a broom until that Flying Lesson, and then he just hops on it like it's nothing! I watched him during the Quidditch match, and I'll admit that he deserves to be Seeker! My father is wrong when he says that I should be on the team! I'm not good enough, and I probably will never be."  
  
"Draco, where is the confident youth I know? Where is the boy that knows that he is good and not useless?"  
  
"I don't know, mother," Draco said, looking at the fire. "I thought that I was the best and that nobody could top me." Draco let out a bitter laugh. "What a shock I was in for." He stomped his foot, clenching his hands into fists. "It's that Potter and that Granger. They make me doubt myself and I hate it! Inside, I know that I'm better than them, but on the outside, it just doesn't seem like that. I studied so hard for finals and you know what grades I received? Eighty and ninety percents! I studied for hours on end, pouring through books, even though father said that I shouldn't study because I'm a Malfoy and Malfoy's don't need to study. Well, this Malfoy does! I worked so hard to prepare myself and Granger," Draco gritted his teeth in anger. "Granger doesn't even study and she received top marks! Well over a hundred and ten percent! That's just not fair! And you know what made it worse? Her, Potter, and that stupid Weasley! They all looked at me smugly and Weasley just had to rub it in my face that even he had received better marks than me!"  
  
"Draco, please -"  
  
"Mother, just face it. I'll never be good enough to please father. I don't deserve to be his son," Draco said quietly, falling into a chair. He looked at his hands. "I don't deserve any of this."  
  
"Draco, don't talk like that," Narcissa said, standing and walking over to him. She knelt in front of him, looking up at his face. He looked at her. She smiled. "Don't let anyone talk you down. If there is one thing that I admire about your father, it is that he always remains confident in his abilities and remembers who he is. Draco, you are a Malfoy, and that will never change. You are better than you give yourself credit for and I believe that with all my heart. Don't ever doubt yourself, love. You have nothing to be disappointed about. You tried your best, and sometimes, that is all that you can do."  
  
"But what if my best isn't good enough? Father seems to think that."  
  
"As before, your father has set high standards that I'm not sure even he can reach. He just wants you to have goals and to always strive to do your personal best. Harry Potter and his friends may think that they are better than you, but they are not. Do you hear me? You are a good boy and a brilliant son, and you remember that. Be confident in your abilities, and you will rise above them all. You will make the house team and although Harry Potter may receive special privileges, that doesn't make him better than you. You will prove that. And don't you mind the Weasley boy. He is nothing compared to you. He is just trying to make you doubt yourself, and so far, he is succeeding. Is that what you want? To make them happy and give them exactly what they want?"  
  
"No," Draco said softly.  
  
"Then ignore their comments and go back to that cool, calm, and collected boy that I know. Ms. Granger may be smart, but it is her choice to make what she will of it. If she decides to throw it in your face, she is no better than the lowest life-forms. But you remember the same thing. If you are better than someone at something, don't throw it back in their faces, because then you'll be no better than those that you despise. Always remain confident, but don't come to the point where your confidence overwhelms you and blinds you to the world around you. That is one of your father's faults that he will never admit. I think he becomes too over- confident at times, but then, at other times, he is brilliant. Do not dwell on what you are not brilliant at; instead, look at what you are good at. You make friends, too, and you are not stupid. You received very good marks. Nobody can be the best at everything and you cannot expect to be, or you are blinding yourself to the truth. You are a very good Quidditch player, and don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. You used to compete in those mini-leagues when you were young and you were and still are a brilliant flyer. Harry Potter may have a gift with the broom, but that is him, not you. I've said this before, and I'm saying it again; you have a greater destiny than you or I could ever imagine. You are destined for great things and how you chose to go about achieving your destiny is what will form who you are."  
  
Draco was silent and looked down at his feet. Narcissa stood. "Goodnight, Draco," she said and she walked away.  
  
A few moments later, Draco left the room and headed upstairs to bed. He lay in bed, thinking about what his mother had said, long into the night and next morning.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Two days later, Draco stood in his father's study. He had not seen his father for the past few days, but that morning, his father had sent up word that he wished to speak to Draco, alone. Draco was very nervous, but kept running his mother's words through his mind. Always remain confident, no matter what. His father had told him that too. Well, he would just have to do that. Draco took a deep breath, calming his raging nerves. He looked around his father's impressive study. A large desk sat at one end and the walls, except for the large window, were covered with mahogany bookshelves, lined with books. Draco knew that there were no Dark Arts books in here; they were all down in the secret passageway, but there were still many interesting books sitting on the spotless shelves. Draco looked down at the plush dark red carpet beneath his feet and then looked at himself. Black boots, pants, and a turtleneck, hair slicked back; he was to always look presentable, no matter where he was.  
  
Draco rubbed his hands together anxiously. He looked around again, glancing up at the high arched ceiling. Then he heard the door open and Draco immediately brought his attention to his father as he strode in, his cape swirling behind him. His father set his staff on the desk and turned to Draco, his gray eyes glittering, but his face cold as always.  
  
"We are having visitors tonight for dinner and you will say the right things, and act like I have taught you," his father stated.  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, his confident look not faltering.  
  
"If they ask you about school, you are not to mention a word about Potter, unless they specifically ask about him. If they ask about Quidditch, tell them that you didn't make the team, and nothing more. You will not say anything that will disgrace our name in front of them, am I understood?"  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said. Who was coming?  
  
"The visitors are old friends of mine; that is all you need to know. I am sure you will know them when you see them, but act like I have taught you, and we will not have any problems."  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, father."  
  
"Good. Tomorrow is the most important, for there are Ministry officials coming. Clearly, they still suspect our family and we will not have their suspicions verified. Therefore, tonight, you will help search the manor and make sure that there is not a trace of any of our Dark Arts items. And if they ask you any questions, you know how to respond. Have I made myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, father. I know what to do."  
  
"Very well. You may go." Draco nodded and walked towards the door. "And Draco, don't forget what we have talked about."  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, and left the study.  
  
Ministry officials! Why can't they just leave us alone! They've already searched our manor twice, now they have to do it again? Well, I suppose we'll just have to make sure they don't have any reason to come back a fourth time. The Ministry can be so bothersome; I don't know why father puts up with it. But I suppose he has to be there, or they would all become Muggle-lovers like Weasley and Dumbledore.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Draco walked up to his room and entered just as Mabol flew in with letters attached to her legs. Draco quickly untied them and gave her some water and food. She hooted softly and Draco opened his letters. They were replies from Terrace, Tawny, Marcus, Adrian, and Terence. They were going to come over after lunch to play some Quidditch in the pitch behind Malfoy Manor. Draco grinned. Now this is fun; I can't wait!  
  
Since it was nearly lunch already, Draco went into the kitchen, quickly ate a sandwich and an apple, and then headed back upstairs to his room. Walking over to his closet, he flipped open the doors and knelt down. He popped the trunk open that was sitting in the bottom, pulling out his shin and knee guards, his hand, wrist and elbow guards, and his Comet Two-Sixty. Standing, he threw on his thick black cloak and put on his equipment, stretching his fingers in the fingerless gloves, smiling. Quidditch was definitely something to look forward to.  
  
He picked up his broomstick and headed outside. It was cloudy and slightly windy, but otherwise not too bad. The snow had melted for the most part, so the green of the grass could be seen. Draco walked by the maze and then up a hill to the pitch. There were very heavy barriers around the pitch so that there wasn't any chance that a Bludger or the Snitch could get loose. Draco chuckled softly. Wouldn't that give Muggles something to stare at! I can just see it now. Huge ball flies through shop window and tears up store! Well, Draco thought seriously. It wouldn't be any fun for me. I would get in so much trouble if that happened. The one time the quaffle flew out of the pitch thankfully no one saw it. I would have lost my broomstick for sure and my father would have been so angry!  
  
Draco grinned as he spotted the others already out on the pitch, their gear on, and capes flapping in the wind. He saw Terrace, Tawny, Crabbe, and Goyle off to one side, talking. Marcus, Adrian, and Terence were standing together, talking. Then Draco heard voices and looked to see four people walking towards the pitch. He smiled, recognizing Adrien Lanart, one of the Slytherin prefects, Carolina Vanderbaugh, a tall fifth-year, Sandra Hawkings, another fifth-year, and Karl Lanart, Adrien's younger brother and a third-year, currently on the Slytherin team.  
  
This is going to be wicked! Draco thought, running the rest of the way onto the pitch. "You made it, brilliant!" Draco said, stopping in front of Marcus.  
  
Marcus smiled. "We'd never turn down Quidditch," he said.  
  
"Besides, I need to work on my Chaser skills," Terence said. "Being a Seeker is a lot harder than you'd think."  
  
Draco nodded. "It is a rather tough position, isn't it? That's what I always play and it always seems that we get roughed up the most."  
  
"Well, the Beaters help take off that load," Adrian said. He looked at Marcus and Terence. "You know, we could probably all be Chasers."  
  
"Right," Marcus said. "Six per team, just one short of an actual team, it's pretty good." He smiled.  
  
"I can work on my Beater skills," Karl said, running a hand through his short red hair. Draco realized that Karl was the same height as him, but stockier built. Beater, no wonder.  
  
Draco looked at the others. "Come on then," Draco said, beckoning them over. They gathered around.  
  
"Okay, so how are we working this?" Carolina asked.  
  
"Six per team; one Keeper, two Beaters, two Chasers, and a Seeker," Marcus said.  
  
"Alright then," Draco said, looking around. "Marcus, Adrian, Goyle, Carolina, Karl, and me on one team. Tawny, Crabbe, Adrien, Sandra, Terence, and Terrace on the other." The other team turned to each other and began figuring out positions.  
  
Marcus looked at Draco, Goyle, and Carolina. "Adrian and I will be Chasers," Marcus said.  
  
Draco nodded. "Goyle, you and Karl are Beaters; Carolina, you can be Keeper."  
  
"Right," Carolina said. "That's fine, I usually play Keeper anyway."  
  
The other team looked at them and Sandra walked forward. "We're ready. You?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Let's mount and I'll release the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch, since I'm a Seeker."  
  
They all nodded and mounted their brooms, flying up into the air. Draco walked over to the trunk that sat in the middle of the field. The house elves had drug the trunk out earlier that morning, at Draco's request the previous night. The bats sat next to the trunk. Draco tossed the bats up and Goyle, Karl, Crabbe, and Adrien caught them. Draco put his broomstick into his right hand and popped the trunk. The Bludgers and Snitch flew into the air and Draco picked up the Quaffle. He threw it up and Marcus snatched it. Draco mounted his own broom and flew up, dodging a Bludger as it flew by him. He pulled himself into a position high above the action. Terrace, the other team's Seeker, was hovering above the action as well. Terrace gave him a quick smile. "This is the easy part!" he called.  
  
Draco grinned. "Not much to do until we see the Snitch!"  
  
Terrace nodded and looked down below them. Draco followed his gaze and watched as Marcus and Adrian passed the Quaffle between them and threw it in for a goal. Sandra took the Quaffle and between her and Terence, they took it towards their goal.  
  
"Nice one, Sandra!" Draco yelled.  
  
Then Adrian swooped down between them, caught the Quaffle, and sped towards the other end, laughing. Sandra just shook her head, laughing, and sped after him. Adrian threw the Quaffle up and batted it past Tawny and through the hoop. He hit a high five to Marcus and they followed Terence as he sped towards his goal, the Quaffle under his arm. Goyle swept in front of Draco as a Bludger flew towards Draco. Goyle batted the Bludger towards Sandra, who ducked.  
  
"Good one, Goyle," Draco said, smiling. Goyle grinned and flew off. A gold blur caught Draco's attention and he looked over to his right, spotting the Snitch. He turned his broom and sped towards it. Terrace chased after him, inching closer. Draco shot forward with a burst of speed, ducking as a Bludger flew by his head. He reached out his hand as Terrace pulled up next to him. Draco knocked him in the side, but Terrace kept flying. Not bad, Draco thought. But not good enough, Draco grinned. He shot forward again and swept his hand down, feeling the cool ball in his grip. He grinned.  
  
"I got the Snitch!" Draco yelled.  
  
"Brilliant," Marcus said, flying up and stopping next to him. "Not bad. You've been playing all your life, right?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Oh yes, and I've always played Seeker, even in the leagues when I was younger."  
  
Marcus nodded. "Well, that's always good to know. Victoria Bletchley just isn't making it as a Keeper. She's decent, but although I don't like to admit it, the Gryffindor team has improved immensely compared to last year. Last year we squashed them flat!" he said, grinning. "But this year, they're tough. Terence isn't a bad Seeker, but he's a better Chaser, so we'll have an opening for Seeker next year. Keep that in mind."  
  
Draco nodded as Marcus flew off to talk to Adrian. Draco grinned. Yes!  
  
"What are you smiling at?" Tawny asked, flying up to hover next to Draco.  
  
"Oh, I just might have a very good chance of being on the team next year."  
  
"That's brilliant!"  
  
"I know."  
  
"You'll flatten Potter."  
  
"Let's hope so," Draco said, smiling. "He needs to find out that he's not so perfect after all."  
  
"Oy! Draco!" Marcus yelled. Draco looked down at him as Marcus ducked a flying Bludger. "Let's start another match!"  
  
"Right." Draco released the Snitch and it flew off, disappearing.  
  
Marcus threw the Quaffle to Terence and he and Terence flew towards their goal.  
  
"Better go!" Tawny cried and sped off to defend her hoops.  
  
As they proceeded through the second match, a steady rain began to fall. Draco soon became drenched and his hands were going numb. He shivered as he watched Marcus and Adrian speed beneath him, heading to their goal. A flash of lightning lit up the pitch and Draco spotted a flash of gold down near the ground. Draco dove and Terrace flew after him. Draco pulled up sharply, nearing the ground. He held on tightly with his right hand, reaching out. The Snitch fluttered in front of him and Draco leaped, swiping down his hand at the same time. He tumbled in the mud, finally coming to rest on his back. He sat up, grinning, holding up the Snitch.  
  
"I got the Snitch!" Draco yelled over a clap of thunder. All the others flew down, landing. Draco swept his hand over his hair and wiped the rain from his face. "Let's go into the manor," he said. "First though, we need to get the Bludgers back into the trunk."  
  
"Right," Carolina said. "Let's go." She flew up into the air, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus. A few moments later, Goyle and Marcus had the wriggling Bludgers held tightly in their arms. They wrestled them into the trunk and Draco put the Snitch and Quaffle away. He closed the trunk and left the bats next to the trunk. The house elves would put it away after the rain stopped.  
  
Draco headed towards the manor, the others trooping down the muddy slope after him. He heard a loud cry behind him and turned to see Carolina sprawled in the mud. He ran over to her, helping her up. "Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
She smiled, nodding. "I'm fine. That mud is just so slippery!"  
  
Draco chuckled. "Yes, mud can be funny like that."  
  
As they trudged towards the manor, a thought arose in Draco's mind. I wish I could be like this at school. I feel so relaxed now and I just had such a brilliant time with my friends playing Quidditch. No acting there. We just had a good time and didn't worry about appearances. The only time I can feel relaxed at school is in the common room, and even there, I still have to hold up to the standards that my father has set for me for the most part. Every single moment of every single day if I'm around anyone that isn't a Slytherin, I have to keep up my act. I hate it. I just wish I could be myself and not be the person my father is trying to shape me into.  
  
Draco sighed and led them through a back entrance and into the large kitchen where house elves were bustling around, cooking dinner. As soon as they entered, a large group of house elves rushed over to them.  
  
"You is all muddy, sir!" one of them cried.  
  
"Get us some hot cocoa and some warm baths," Draco ordered.  
  
"Yes, sir!" the house-elves cried, and began scurrying around.  
  
Draco looked at his friends. "We'll go upstairs and get cleaned up." They nodded and followed Draco up a back staircase to a group of rooms clustered together.  
  
"These are nice," Tawny commented.  
  
"We never use them," Draco said. "Each of these has its own bath and they should be ready. All the closets have clothes in them, mostly black, but they should fit for the most part. There are some large things for you two, things you've left here," Draco added, looking at Crabbe and Goyle. They nodded.  
  
"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but that bath is calling my name," Sandra said and she walked into one of the larger rooms, closing the door.  
  
"I'll have the house elves bring you up hot cocoa," Draco said, looking at the rest of them. "Just meet back in my room. Crabbe and Goyle know where it is." They nodded and Draco left, heading to his room. He glanced back at the long carpet that covered the dark wood floor down the center of the hall. He smiled as his muddy footsteps disappeared into the carpet. Always loved that part. This place is never dirty. Draco chuckled and walked into his room. He went into the bathing chamber and was pleased when he saw the steam rising from the bath. He quickly got out of his muddy robes and equipment. He set them on a small circle on the floor and they disappeared. The house elves would bring them up later, completely clean. Draco warmed himself and cleaned the mud out of his hair and then pulled on a clean robe. He went into his room and pulled open his closet. Something nice for dinner. Hmm . . . what to wear? He looked through his shirts and pulled out a white collared shirt and a black long-sleeved sweater with a V-neck. He pulled out one of his nicer black cloaks, one that had red lining in the inside. He took a pair of black pants and black boots and walked over to his bed. He put the clothes on and was sitting on his bed, pulling on his boots, when Crabbe and Goyle entered, followed by the rest, all bathed and in clean clothes.  
  
"I feel much better," Sandra said, stretching her arms. "It was getting bloody cold out there!"  
  
"You're telling me," Terrace grumbled, sitting in a chair. "At least you were always moving."  
  
"Well, we're warm now, so don't worry about it," Carolina said, sitting down in another chair. Karl lay down on the bed, propping his head up with a large pillow.  
  
A table suddenly appeared in the center of the room with steaming mugs of cocoa on it.  
  
"Cocoa! Brilliant!" Marcus said, grinning. He walked over to the table and picked up a mug, the steam rising in his face. He sipped and then let out a yell. "Bloody hell, that's hot!"  
  
Everyone laughed. "Glad you tried it first, then," Adrian said. "Better you than us. Now we know not to take a drink of really hot cocoa!" Everyone laughed again, including Marcus, who shook his head.  
  
Draco stood and walked over to the table, picking up the mug. "You'd better let Marcus try it first! He'll tell you if it's hot or not!" Karl said, howling with laughter. He laughed so hard that he fell of the bed. "Ow," he said, sitting up and rubbing his head. Everyone laughed again.  
  
"Here, Karl," Draco said walking over to Karl and handing the mug to him.  
  
He helped Karl to his feet. He looked at Draco, smiling. "Thanks," he said.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Not a problem," he said and walked over to the table, picking up a mug. He blew across the top of it, cooling it slightly. He took a tentative sip. Not bad.  
  
Sandra walked over and picked up a mug. She looked at Draco, taking a sip. "You know, you're a decent Quidditch player for a first-year."  
  
"Thanks, I think," Draco said, quirking an eyebrow. He took a sip of his cocoa.  
  
Sandra smiled. "No, I mean it. I think you have a really good chance of making the team next year."  
  
"What about you? You're not bad."  
  
Sandra shrugged. "I'll be a sixth-year and I'm probably going to be a prefect, so I'm not going to have much time for the team. Besides, I'm alright, but I'd hold back the team more than I'd help it."  
  
"You never know," Draco said, shrugging.  
  
"So you're going to try out?" Tawny asked as she picked up a mug.  
  
"Yes, I think I will," Draco said. "Besides, someone needs to show Potter he's not all that he thinks he is. And I'm just the person to do it. Gryffindor had better savor their success because next year, Slytherin is going to be back on top."  
  
"Here, here!" Marcus called. Draco grinned. "That last match, he nearly swallowed the Snitch!"  
  
"That was priceless," Karl said, laughing.  
  
"That it was," Draco said, still grinning.  
  
"You know what we really need, though?" Marcus said.  
  
"What?" Karl asked.  
  
"We need better broomsticks. We're all on Comet Two-Sixties for the most part and Potter's Nimbus Two-Thousand really outshines us. If they come out with a new broomstick next year, we've got to get it. Then Gryffindor really won't stand a chance."  
  
Everyone nodded in agreement. "Right you are," Adrian said.  
  
"That would cost a bit, now wouldn't it?" Adrien asked.  
  
Marcus nodded. "That's the problem. My father didn't get me a Nimbus Two- Thousand for that reason. He said that is was a waste of good money for just a broom. He knows that the Nimbus is far superior to the Comet, but he can't just see throwing away that much money on a broomstick."  
  
"My father didn't get me the Nimbus, either," Draco said sullenly.  
  
"I wonder what's going to be next?" Carolina asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Who knows? I suppose we'll just have to wait."  
  
"Draco?" came his mother's voice through his closed door.  
  
"Yes, Mother?" Draco called.  
  
"Your father wants you down in the parlor. His visitors will be arriving shortly."  
  
"Okay, I'm coming." Draco looked at his friends. "Well, I have to be going. Father is having a dinner tonight; something I look forward to immensely," Draco said, slightly sarcastic.  
  
Marcus nodded. "Well, I'd better be off home. It'll be dinner soon."  
  
Draco nodded. "I'll see you back at school."  
  
"Right."  
  
A table appeared just then with all their clothes and Quidditch gear clean and folded. After all the goodbyes had been said, everyone took their clothes and gear and gradually filtered from his room. They changed back into their clothes and gave Draco the clothes that they had borrowed. Crabbe and Goyle were the last ones to leave, and Draco made sure that they didn't leave anything this time.  
  
When everyone was gone, Draco looked in his mirror one last time, making sure that he looked appropriate. He smoothed the folds in his cloak and headed downstairs.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Draco stood at the base of the staircase, next to his father, awaiting the arrival of his father's visitors. "You remember what to do?" his father asked coolly, keeping his eyes forward.  
  
"Yes, Father," Draco said, glancing around.  
  
"Good."  
  
Just then the large front door opened and his father stepped forward to great his guests. "Macnair, so good of you to make it. And Nott, very nice to see you."  
  
"Yes, Lucius," Nott said, looking around. Then he looked at Draco. "Ah, Draco, we've heard much about you."  
  
"I hope it is all pleasant," Draco said, giving a small smile. He saw his father glance at him and Draco stiffened, but his father didn't say anything.  
  
"It is," Nott said with a cool smile. "Brandon had told me much of what has happened at Hogwarts, thus far."  
  
"Shall we go into the dining hall?" Lucius asked, drawing Nott's attention away from Draco. Thankfully! He gives me the creeps.  
  
"Yes, yes, very well," Nott said.  
  
"Lead the way," Macnair said and they followed Lucius out of the parlor. Draco trailed a bit behind, running what his father had told him through his mind.  
  
When he entered the dining hall, he took his seat next to Macnair and the food appeared. They began eating.  
  
"So, Draco, I haven't had a chance to speak with you yet," Macnair said, taking a bit of his carrots. "I know you've recently started at Hogwarts. Have you made many friends?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "Crabbe and Goyle are also there with me, and we are in the same dorm with Brandon Nott."  
  
"Good," Macnair said, smiling. "You've made Slytherin, I presume."  
  
"Of course," Draco said smugly, letting a smile cross his face. A look from his father made his smile disappear and Draco turned to his lamp chops, cutting a piece and eating it.  
  
"Draco takes after you," Macnair chuckled, looking at Lucius.  
  
"Yes, well, he is my son and he should take after me," Lucius said, glancing at Draco with a cool expression.  
  
Draco glanced at him and quickly bowed his head, eating more of his lamb.  
  
Nott and Macnair chuckled. "He's got you down pat in the expressions department," Nott said.  
  
Lucius didn't say anything; instead, he began eating his fried potatoes.  
  
"Well, Draco, how did Quidditch tryouts go?" Macnair asked.  
  
"I -" Draco began uncomfortably, but Nott cut in, saving Draco from answering.  
  
"My son, Brandon, said that they wouldn't even let first-years try out," Nott said, shaking his head. "I think that's completely unreasonable. Why shouldn't first-years have just as much of a chance as the rest? Brandon has been playing for years and he's rather good."  
  
"Well, I heard, that they did let a first-year on the team," Macnair said, his lip curling up into a sneer. "That Potter kid."  
  
Nott raised his eyebrows. "I see; Brandon didn't mention that, although he was always bitter when talking about Quidditch."  
  
"Yes, Harry Potter, the new celebrity at Hogwarts," Macnair said, sneering. "Soon enough, Potter won't be receiving any more special privileges, once -" At a glare from Lucius, Macnair stopped. "Right."  
  
"So, Macnair, how is business going?" Lucius asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Good. We've managed to hunt down a few more Knarls and we just ridded a house of Bundimuns. You wouldn't believe some of the problems those Muggles have, and then we have to go in to extract the beasts." Lucius cleared his throat and Macnair's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, that business, oh, well -"  
  
Lucius looked at Draco and said coldly, "You are dismissed, Draco. Remember what I told you about tomorrow. Do that now."  
  
Draco nodded and took a bit of his lamb. He hadn't finished dinner yet, but when his father told him to leave, he was to leave. Draco stood, glanced at the plate as it disappeared and left the dining hall.  
  
"What's going on tomorrow?" Nott asked, his voice drifting into the hall.  
  
"More Ministry officials are coming to search our manor," Lucius said disdainfully.  
  
Draco walked up the long staircase and up to his room. The two tables that had once housed hot cocoa and his friends' clothes had disappeared. However, on his bedside table, a plate of food had appeared. The food that he hadn't had a chance to finish. Draco smiled and walked over to it, finishing his supper.  
  
After the plate had disappeared, Draco sat on his bed, thinking. I don't see how Muggles live without house elves. They do everything around here! And the mess; I suppose Muggles actually have to clean it up. No carpet to absorb the dirt in those sorts of houses. Draco smiled. One more of the advantages of being a pure-blood. Well, I suppose it's just too bad that Potter can't enjoy it, of course, he got to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday. In a way, I envy him a bit. My friends are brilliant and all, but when they're not here, this manor is boring and all I have to do is homework, which is not at all enticing. Hogwarts would be much more interesting. Perhaps I can persuade father to let me stay there next Christmas. He might permit it.  
  
Draco stood. Time to search the manor for the thousandth time, Draco thought unhappily. He began walking the halls, going into every room, searching it from top to bottom, making sure there wasn't a trace of the Dark Arts. The Aurors would be able to pick up any tiny trace, so Draco had to make sure he was thorough.  
  
Hours upon hours later, Draco finally dragged himself back into his room, completely exhausted. The manor was so huge and it took so long to do a thorough search. Draco collapsed onto his bed, his eyes shutting. Tomorrow is Christmas, he thought sleepily and he fell into a deep sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
On Christmas afternoon, Draco awoke to a bright beam of sunshine streaming in through his window. He hadn't had the energy to close his drapes, so the sunlight was in full force. Draco mumbled something unintelligible and rolled himself out of his bed, falling onto the floor. "Bloody hell," he cursed softly, his face smushed against the hard wood floor. He picked himself up, rubbing his face. "Wouldn't Potter have loved to see that," he grumbled, standing.  
  
He walked over to his closet and searched through the clothes. The previous day's clothes had already been cleaned and hung back up. His Quidditch gear, he assumed, was back in the trunk. Draco picked out a dark green robe, black turtleneck, and black pants, and got dressed. He pulled on the black dragon-hide boots that he had received for his birthday and headed downstairs.  
  
The smell of pies and food wafted through the high-arched corridors, making Draco smile. He walked into the large living room with its high-arched ceilings, tapestries and bookshelves filling the walls, and two huge couches near the fireplace. He looked over at the huge Christmas tree and the presents underneath them. His mother sat in a chair next to the tree and stood when he entered.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Draco," she said, smiling. She walked up to him, giving him a hug.  
  
Draco stepped back, looking at his mother. He smiled. "Happy Christmas, Mother." Draco looked around. "Where's Father?"  
  
"He's at the Ministry."  
  
"On Christmas?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Narcissa sighed. "You know how important your father's work is. He'll be back as soon as he can; the Aurors will be with him. But, meanwhile," she said, giving him a small smile, "why don't we go ahead and open your presents."  
  
Draco smiled slightly. "Sure." Why can't father be here on Christmas? I've never had a Christmas with him; he's always gone. Once I'm back at Hogwarts, I won't see him again. He's always so busy with work and when he is home, it seems like he acts like I don't exist, except where it concerns him. It's like he doesn't want to acknowledge that I'm his son, but he knows that he has to, so he does, reluctantly. Am I that poor of a son that he doesn't want me? Draco pushed away the thoughts and walked over to the tree, where his mother was now kneeling.  
  
She handed him a large box. "This is from your father and me."  
  
Draco sat down and took the box. He ripped off the paper and opened the box. Inside were two rich-looking royal blue and dark green cloaks, a black silk shirt, a pair of green silk pajamas, a pair of dragon-hide boots (this time dark green), two pairs of black pants, and a dark green and silver sweater.  
  
Draco smiled. "Thanks, Mother. It's perfect."  
  
Narcissa smiled. "Good, I had hoped you would like it. I know you always need more clothes, the way you are growing."  
  
Draco chuckled. "As always, Mother, you are right."  
  
He set the box down as Narcissa handed him another. "This is from your grandparents."  
  
Draco nodded, opening the small box. Inside was an ornately carved black box with his name in-scripted in gold on the cover. There was also an indentation of a handprint on the cover. He pulled it out of the box it had come in and turned it over in his hands. It was about a foot in length and half a foot wide and deep. "What is this?" he asked.  
  
"It's a box where you can place all your most treasured and secret items. Once you place your hand on the one on the cover, it will be linked to you; meaning that only you can open the box."  
  
"Brilliant," Draco said, smiling. "They always seem to know exactly what I want, without even me realizing it."  
  
He opened a few more boxes containing more clothes. Once he was finished, he gathered the wrapping paper in one pile and it disappeared. He was collecting his presents when his father strode in, following by four men in various colors of cloaks. Draco stood, making his face expressionless.  
  
"Hello, Father. Happy Christmas," Draco said, smiling.  
  
His father gave him a curt nod. "Draco, the Aurors are going to search the manor and while they are doing this, I would prefer if you stayed in your room and out of the way."  
  
"Yes, Father," Draco said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Why is he always shutting me away? He can't even say Happy Christmas! He picked up his things.  
  
"Narcissa -"  
  
"I know, Lucius," she said, interrupting him. She rose, gracefully, and left the room. Draco walked by the Aurors, glancing up at them as he passed. He though they looked like an unhappy bunch. He walked up the staircase. Another Christmas by myself. Well, at least I got to spend a little time with my mother. Draco sighed. At least at Hogwarts there were other kids and I could busy myself with them. But, I do like being at home, although I hardly see my parents. Mother does exactly what Father tells her to do, and most of the time it leaves me on my own. Draco walked into his room and put away his presents, except for the box. He sat down on his bed and placed his hand on it. He heard a clicking noise and the lid popped open. He closed the lid and placed it on his bed. He laid back, looking up at the drapes hanging above him.  
  
I'm always on my own. Sure, I have friends, but it's not as if they can come over here all the time. Father wouldn't allow it. I know it may seem like I have everything but in truth, that's not how it is. I would give anything to have a father that was always around and would never be disappointed. And as much as I despise the Weasleys, I have to admit, they are a very close family. If my family was like that, life would be perfect, but of course, nothing is as ever as you wish it to be. Life won't allow it. I know I come across as a selfish, arrogant, snobby rich- kid, but it's all a lie. It's my barrier to protect myself from the world around me. My father has pounded his ideas of what a Malfoy should act like into my brain so much I don't think it'll ever leave. I would love to be like Potter and not have to worry about what my father thinks all the time. Every single move my father watches, and I feel like I can't put a toe out of line, or there would be serious consequences. I just hate being forced into someone that I'm not, but I suppose I'll never be able to change that. I am a Malfoy and I will always be a Malfoy; that will never change.  
  
And although I might try to be my own person, I will always be in my father's shadow, no matter how hard I try to move out from it. I admire my father deeply and I do want to be like him, but is the pain of disappointment worth it? I don't want to hurt him, yet I don't think I'll ever be the son he really wants. I know that I'm weak and not very bright, but I try, I really do. And then people like Granger just waltz along and steal all that I've worked so hard to accomplish. I just don't see how she does it. And the part that angers me the most is that she's a Mudblood. And then there's Weasley. He has life a lot better than I think he gives himself credit for. Of course, he is always giving me dirty looks and saying nasty remarks either about me or my house. So, obviously, I'm going to be defensive and I'm going to be nasty right back to him. The laughable part is, in a way, I don't want to be nasty to him, it's just what my father wishes, and so it is done, regardless of what I think. He has given me strict guidelines in which I am to follow, and that means despising Weasleys and Mudbloods. And then, there's Potter, who in fact, has everything. I don't think he realizes how lucky he really is. Sure, he doesn't have parents and he lives with Muggles, but he's a very talented wizard, brighter than I'll ever be, and a superb Quidditch player, and he doesn't even try! And the professors adore him. Saint Potter, that's what he is. Potter can do no wrong. We should all be like Potter! It disgusts me! Nobody ever sees the rest of us because we're all in Potter's shadow. I know I shouldn't get so angry and jealous, but I just can't help it.  
  
Draco heard a 'POP!' and looked over to see that a table had appeared in his room. On it was a plate of food, a dish of desert, and a goblet of pumpkin juice. Draco sighed and got off of his bed. He pulled a chair over to the table and sat down. He began eating his pork chops, cutting small bites and putting them in his mouth.  
  
They probably had a brilliant Christmas. Draco thought bitterly as he ate his dinner in silence. At least they had a Christmas Feast with other people. What a picture I make, eating all by myself. Potter and Weasley would get a dozen laughs if they saw me now.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After the Aurors left, the rest of the holiday flew by rather quickly, and for that Draco was glad. He occupied himself by doing his homework, which at least took his thoughts away from being alone.  
  
Soon, Draco was on his way back to Hogwarts, sitting across from Crabbe and Goyle on the train, watching them as they stuffed themselves on sweets. Draco just sighed and looked out the window, watching as the scenery flew by. 


	6. The Dragon and the Forbidden Forest

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter Six  
  
-The Dragon and the Forbidden Forest-  
  
Draco sat at the long table in the middle of the library, working on his Charms essay. They had to write two feet on practical charms that every witch and wizard should know and were easy to learn. His wand lay next to the parchment, because earlier he had been practicing wand movements.  
  
He was working on the last few inches when someone cried, "Watch out!" and a large ink bottle landed upturned on Draco's essay. His parchment was now a black mess.  
  
He leapt up, his temper flaring. He glared at Longbottom, who was picking himself up off of his feet. "Longbottom," Draco growled.  
  
Longbottom looked at Draco and, seeing the look on Draco's face, he scrambled back, pure terror on his face.  
  
"I have been working on that for hours!" Draco yelled, pointing at the ruined mess on the table. "And you come by with one swift movement and ruin it!"  
  
"I- I'm sorry!" Longbottom squeaked as Draco picked up his wand, making sure the ink hadn't touched it.  
  
Draco shook his head in disgust. "I don't even know why they made you a Gryffindor. You're a pathetic coward and you ruin everything you touch!"  
  
"But I didn't mean it!"  
  
"Well," Draco said, sneering, "I've been looking for someone to practice on and since you're the only one available at the moment, I'll use you. It's the least you deserve after ruining my essay."  
  
Longbottom tried to run away but Draco yelled "Locomotor Mortis!" and Longbottom collapsed onto the ground, his legs locked from the Leg-Locker Curse. Longbottom pulled himself up using the table and hopped out of the library.  
  
Draco sat down and, looking at the black blob that had once been his essay, he groaned. This was going to take him forever. ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco, needless to say, managed to write another essay and turn it in the next day. He was pleased to see that every time Longbottom spotted him, he would squeal and run in the other direction. Maybe he'll stay away from me now and stop messing up everything! Draco thought.  
  
After long hours spent in the library, studying for tests and working on homework, the weekend finally came. The Quidditch match, Hufflepuff against Gryffindor, would decide whether or not Gryffindor came out ahead of Slytherin. Draco sincerely hoped that Hufflepuff would win, but he very much doubted it. The Hufflepuff team was a very sorry team and Draco had a feeling that Gryffindor would smash them. The good thing was, Snape was refereeing and Draco knew that Snape wouldn't let the Gryffindors get away with anything, especially if it threatened Slytherins place in the house championship.  
  
As they entered the stands, Draco spotted Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger standing in the stands where a few of the houses had mixed. Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle. "I want to speak with Potter's little friends. Longbottom deserves a nice little visit from me, doesn't he?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Crabbe said, laughing.  
  
"Longbottom's so scared of you, he'll probably jump onto the pitch!" Goyle cried.  
  
"I doubt he's talented enough to get into his seat, much less jump over the ledge and onto the pitch," Draco said, smirking.  
  
As they made their way towards Weasley and Longbottom, the match began. Draco watched as one of the Hufflepuffs sped toward his goal, two Gryffindors hot on his tail.  
  
Draco stopped directly behind Weasley. "I've never seen Snape look so mean," Weasley said. "Look - they're off." At that point, Draco deliberately bumped into him as he looked up at Potter.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there," Draco said, grinning at Crabbe and Goyle. Weasley turned around to glare at him. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?" Draco asked, looking at Weasley.  
  
"And a penalty is awarded to Hufflepuff!" the announcer called. Draco glanced up as the Hufflepuff Chaser heaved the Quaffle through the hoop, scoring.  
  
Draco glanced at Potter, who was searching for the Snitch. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Draco asked as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty. Please let Hufflepuff win! "Its people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains," Draco added, sneering at Longbottom.  
  
Longbottom looked at Malfoy, his face bright red. "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.  
  
Draco burst out laughing and Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter.  
  
"Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."  
  
"I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word -"  
  
"Ron!" Granger yelled, "Harry -!"  
  
"What? Where?"  
  
Draco turned his attention to the match and to Potter, who had suddenly gone into a sharp dive. Even Draco had to admit, it was pretty impressive. "You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" Draco said, smirking.  
  
Suddenly Weasley leapt at him, wrestling him to the ground. "Get off me Weasley!" Draco yelled as Weasley tried to punch him. Draco heard Crabbe and Goyle scuffling and a squeak told him that it was with Longbottom. Draco rolled under the seats as Weasley threw another punch. Then Draco swung his fist, hitting Weasley in the face, making his nose bleed. As Weasley hit him in the side of his face, Draco heard the announcer yell, "GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Draco threw Weasley off of him and scrambled up.  
  
"Come on," Draco said and Crabbe and Goyle quickly ran after him back to the school, as the rest of the students filtered out of the stands. ~ ~ ~  
  
Later that evening, Draco sat on a couch in the common room, holding a bag of ice against his cheek where it had gone black and blue. "What happened to you?" Brandon asked, sitting down on the other couch.  
  
"Weasley," Draco growled, grimacing as a sharp stab of pain came from his bruise.  
  
"Good for nothing Weasleys, why do they always have to go and make trouble?"  
  
"Tell me about it. I have the bruise to prove it."  
  
"Well that just makes the rest of my term," Terrace said sarcastically, plopping down on the couch.  
  
"What?" Draco asked.  
  
"Gryffindor is in the lead with the house championship."  
  
"We know that," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He winced as the movement jarred his cheek.  
  
"It gets better."  
  
"Really? Enlighten us," Draco said.  
  
"We have a huge test in Potions tomorrow."  
  
Draco groaned. "Bloody hell, I'm done for. I haven't studied yet. What's it over?"  
  
"The twelve uses of dragon blood and all the herbs on page 312."  
  
"Book time," Brandon said and opened his bag. He pulled out the large Potions book, opening it.  
  
Terrace scooted closer and Draco moved himself up to sitting position.  
  
Until midnight, they studied that page until they had memorized it and Draco was so sick of Dittany and Yarrow and Dragon's blood that he didn't want to think about anything except a nice long sleep. He stumbled upstairs and threw himself onto his bed, falling asleep the instant his head hit his pillow.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
One morning, Draco was leaving breakfast and heading for History of Magic, when he overheard Weasley and Potter talking, coming down the hall.  
  
"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" he heard Weasley exclaim as they rounded the corner. Dragon? Draco stopped in mid-stride, listening.  
  
"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"  
  
Draco looked back at them, his eyes wide. Then he smirked as they stopped and looked at him wide-eyed. He strode away, heading for class. A dragon, really? Well, we'll just have to see about that. I think the professors might find it very interesting that Hagrid is hatching a dragon. Of course, I'll have to check it out myself, first, but oooohhh, Potter you're in for it! Finally, something to get back at him for everything.  
  
As Draco sat through History of Magic, he kept glancing out the window. He sighed as Professor Binns droned on and on. At one point, he even stifled a yawn. Draco glanced at Crabbe, who had fallen asleep on his book, and Goyle, who was doodling on a piece of parchment. Draco sat back, closing his eyes.  
  
Finally, the bell sounded, ending the class. Showtime, Draco thought as he walked down a corridor. Crabbe was rubbing his eyes sleepily. "I'm going to go study some more in the library," Draco said.  
  
"I'll see you back in the common room," Crabbe said sleepily.  
  
"Have fun doing work," Goyle said and they left Draco. Draco wound his way through the halls until he reached a small courtyard. He passed under a large arched tunnel and out onto the other side, where he could see Hagrid's hut in the distance. He crept slowly over to the hut and, using a barrel, he climbed up so that he was eye-level with the small window. He watched in wide-eyed fascination as Hagrid placed a large egg on the table in front of Potter, Weasley, and Granger. The eggshell cracked and a dragon crawled out. A real dragon! Bloody hell, that's so wicked! The dragon looked at Hagrid as he petted it. Suddenly Hagrid looked at the window where Draco was and Draco knew he had been seen.  
  
Draco's eyes went wide as he stumbled off of the barrel and sprinted as fast as he could towards the castle. Professor Snape will be very please to hear about this, as will Professor McGonagall.  
  
Draco sprinted to the dungeons and through the empty Potions classroom to Snape's office. "Professor Snape, sir?" Draco said carefully, waiting at the door.  
  
Snape looked up at him from behind his cluttered desk and gave a small smile. "Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?"  
  
"Well, sir," Draco began, stepping into the room. It all came out in a rush. "Potter and his friends are hatching a dragon egg in Hagrid's hut and they're keeping it there, and they saw me so I ran here as fast as I could."  
  
"I see," Snape said, his lips curling into a sneer. "Potter, why am I not surprised? You are sure of this?"  
  
Draco nodded. "I saw it with my own eyes."  
  
"Very well, see if anything develops with Potter's little dragon and give me a week. Then, that dragon will be gone before you can say Quidditch, and Potter and his friends will be in serious trouble."  
  
Draco smirked. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Watch them closely, but don't let them know what is going to happen." Snape smiled. "Finally, something Potter can't squirm his way out of." Draco heard him say as Draco left Snape's office and headed back to the common room.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
During the next week, Draco didn't speak one word about the dragon; however, every time he saw Potter or his friends, he gave them a slight smirk, laughing silently at the nervous looks on their faces.  
  
Draco was in the common room, looking through his History of Magic book, working on his time-line, when Crabbe and Goyle walked in. They walked over to Draco, who was sitting at one of the tables.  
  
"Did you get that burn fixed?" Draco asked, looking at Crabbe, who had, the previous night, dropped his book near the fire and while retrieving it, had burned his hand.  
  
Crabbe nodded. "Weasley's there too," he said.  
  
Draco perked up instantly. "Really? Do you know why?"  
  
Crabbe shrugged. "I heard him tell Madame Pomfrey that he got bit by a dog."  
  
Draco smiled, chuckling softly. The dragon, I knew it! Hah, I gotta see this. "He's there now?"  
  
Crabbe nodded and Draco stood. "Where are you going?" Goyle asked.  
  
"To see Weasley of course."  
  
Draco left the common room and headed to the hospital wing. As he entered the wing, Madam Pomfrey rushed over to him. "Do you need something, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," Draco said, nodding. "I know that Ron is in here and I need to borrow his Potions book. You see, I let someone else borrow mine, and since Ron has already studied, I wanted to see if I could borrow his."  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Very well, but don't keep him too long. He needs his rest."  
  
"I won't," Draco said, sliding past Madam Pomfrey. He walked over to the bed where Weasley was lying down, his hand covered in bandages. "Well, well, look at what we have here. Nice bite you got there Weasley," Draco said, smirking. He laughed.  
  
Weasley sat up, glaring at him. "What do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
"Oh, I just need to borrow your Potions book and I wanted to get a good laugh for the day."  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
"Really?" Draco said, raising his eyebrows. "Well, if you're going to be so unreasonable, I suppose I'll just have to go and tell Madam Pomfrey what really bit you. I'm sure she'd be very interested in how you managed to get a dragon bite," Draco said, smirking.  
  
"You're not getting my book," Weasley growled.  
  
"I'm not? Very well, Madam Pomfrey!" Draco called.  
  
"Alright, alright!" Weasley whispered as Madam Pomfrey walked over.  
  
"Do you need something?"  
  
"Yes," Draco said, glancing at Weasley, who was looking at him, mouthing "No!" Draco looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Ron here, is really thirsty and I don't know where to get the water from."  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Well, you're tiring him out, Mr. Malfoy. You will need to leave. Have you collected your book?"  
  
Draco looked at Weasley, who gave him a glare that could kill the dead and handed Draco his Potions book. "Now I do." Draco stood.  
  
"Then you can leave now," she said.  
  
Draco nodded. "Of course." With one last smirk at Weasley, Draco left the hospital wing and headed back to the common room. There were several Slytherins in the common room, but none of his friends at the time. Draco walked over to a table and set down the Potions book.  
  
He finished his time-line and was picking up his books, when he glanced back at Weasley's Potions book. He shrugged and picked up the book. A piece of parchment fluttered out of it, landing on the ground. Interesting. Draco thought as he set his books down. He squatted down and picked up the piece of parchment and found that it was a letter.  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.  
  
Send me an answer as soon as possible.  
  
Love, Charlie  
  
Draco smirked. Saturday at midnight. If I catch them, I'll earn so many points! And Gryffindor will lose so many points, they won't have a chance of beating us for the House Cup.  
  
Draco folded the letter and put it into his pocket and picked up his books, including Weasley's. He headed for the library.  
  
As he was walking through the courtyard, he ran into Crabbe and Goyle. "So, how was Weasley's bite?" Goyle asked.  
  
"Did a dog actually bite him? Where did he find one?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"No, Crabbe, it wasn't a dog," Draco said, smirking. "It was a dragon."  
  
"A dragon? Wicked!" Goyle exclaimed.  
  
"The best part is that I have a note telling when they are going to try to get rid of it. I'm going to catch them and then I'll get those points back that we lost from the Quidditch match and other little things."  
  
Draco heard a soft footfall and glanced over his shoulder as Longbottom hurriedly walked by. When Draco glared at him, Longbottom squeaked and ran off. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle laughed. "Brilliant," Goyle said.  
  
"I know," Draco said smugly. "Well, I'm off to study."  
  
"More?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"That can't be good for you," Goyle said.  
  
"Goyle, unlike you, I actually care what I get in my classes. After last term, I have to do better, or my father will be very displeased."  
  
Goyle nodded. "Right. We'll be back at the common room."  
  
"See you there," Draco said and they parted ways.  
  
As Draco was studying his Herbology notes, the last thing he had to do, he spotted Weasley talking to Potter over at a table. He picked up Weasley's book and put his own books back into his bag. He slung his bag over his shoulder and as he walked past them, he dropped Weasley's book on the table. He kept walking.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Saturday night, as it drew closer to midnight, Draco waited in the common room, watching it empty out as the other Slytherins went to bed. Crabbe and Goyle had left a while ago; Draco insisted that he still had to study.  
  
Just after eleven o'clock, Draco left the common room and headed to Professor McGonagall's classroom.  
  
He stepped into the Transfiguration classroom tentatively. "Professor?" he said slowly.  
  
She looked up at him from behind her desk as he walked down the center aisle. "Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing up at this hour?"  
  
"I - I had to tell you, Professor. I overheard Potter and his friends talking. They're trying to sneak a dragon up to one of the towers and give it to Weasley's brother Charlie. I thought that you should know."  
  
Professor McGonagall nodded curtly. "We shall see about this. Come with me." She stood and Draco followed her out of her classroom.  
  
As soon as they had stepped into the corridor, Draco saw Potter, Weasley, and Granger walking towards them. Draco looked at them smugly as they froze in their tracks, staring at Professor McGonagall. "Good evening," she said. "Come with me."  
  
She walked back into the classroom, Potter, Weasley, and Granger following behind. Draco trailed behind, smirking. Hah! Finally, something that they can't get out of!  
  
McGonagall walked behind her desk and looked angrily at Potter, Weasley, and Granger, who had come to a stop in front of her desk. Draco stood off to one side, watching them smugly.  
  
"Wandering around in the middle of the night," McGonagall said, shaking her head. "Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."  
  
"Fifty?!" Potter asked in disbelief.  
  
"Each." Draco smirked as Potter and his friends looked dismayed. "And all four of you will receive detention."  
  
The smirk vanished from Draco's face. What? He stepped forward. "Excuse me Professor, but I thought you said 'the four of us'."  
  
"You heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said sternly, looking at him. "You see, as noble as your intentions were, you were also out of bed."  
  
Draco groaned inwardly, looking at Potter and his friends, who were smirking at him. It's not fair. How come I always get into trouble, no matter what I do, and Potter rarely gets in trouble. I wish I could wipe that smirk off of his face.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The next morning, however, brightened Draco's mood. Potter and his friends had managed to make Gryffindor house lose one hundred and fifty points, putting Slytherin at the top for the House Cup. Everyone hated Potter and his friends now, except of course, the Slytherins, who clapped and hollered every time Potter and his friends walked by them.  
  
"Way to go Potter! Thanks!" Brandon yelled as he and Draco passed Potter and his friends in the corridor.  
  
At breakfast, Draco received a note.  
  
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.  
  
Professor M. McGonagall  
  
Draco groaned. Detention. Just what I want to do.  
  
At eleven o'clock, Draco headed to the entrance hall and walked over to Filch, who was waiting by the stairs, Mrs. Norris in his arms. Filch didn't say anything to him and they waited in silence. A few minutes later, Potter, Weasley, Granger, and to Draco's surprise, Longbottom, appeared, walking over to them.  
  
"Follow me," Filch said, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh? Oh yes . . . hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me . . . It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out . . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed. I miss the screaming." Draco swallowed hard. "Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."  
  
As they walked across the dark grounds, Draco wondered what they were going to have to do. I hope it's nothing too horrible. He thought.  
  
Then they heard a distant shout. "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."  
  
Draco glanced at Potter, who looked relieved that they were serving detention with Hagrid. Draco, on the other hand, wasn't too sure.  
  
"I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy - it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."  
  
Longbottom moaned and Draco stopped dead in his tracks, looking at Filch with his eye-wide. He could feel his heart beating rapidly and his hands were slightly sweaty.  
  
"The forest?" Draco repeated, fear creeping into his voice. "We can't go in there. First-years aren't allowed. And besides, there are - werewolves in there," Draco said, swallowing hard. The forest! There was no way they are getting me to go in there!  
  
"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch said and Draco could practically see the glee written all over Filch's face. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"  
  
At that point, Hagrid walked over to them, his dog at his heels. He had a large crossbow and a quiver of arrows was slung over his back. That sight didn't make Draco feel any better about where they were going.  
  
"Abou' time," Hagrid said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"  
  
"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."  
  
"That's why yer late, is it? Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."  
  
"I'll be back at dawn," Filch said, "for what's left of them," he added nastily and headed back to the castle.  
  
Draco looked at Hagrid. "I'm not going in that forest," Draco said, panic rising in his chest and seeping into his voice.  
  
Hagrid looked at him coolly. "Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts. Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay for it."  
  
"But this is servant stuff," Draco said disdainfully, "it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd -"  
  
"- tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on"  
  
Draco didn't move; instead, he glared at Hagrid. That stupid oaf! He's going to get us all killed! Draco dropped his gaze, now glaring at the ground. This wasn't right!  
  
"Right then," Hagrid said, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."  
  
They followed Hagrid to the edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze passed over Draco's face, rustling his cloak as he looked into he forest, gulping.  
  
"Look there," Hagrid said, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor beast. We might have ter put it out of its misery."  
  
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Draco asked fearfully.  
  
"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," Hagrid said. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've been staggerin' around since last night at least."  
  
"Then I get Fang," Draco said quickly, glancing at the dog.  
  
"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a bloody coward," Hagrid said. Draco groaned inwardly, dismay written all over his face. "So me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Ger yer wands out an' practice now - that's it - an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeah - so, be careful - let's go."  
  
Draco watched as Hagrid led Potter and Granger to the left and then Draco walked down the right, Longbottom and Fang behind him. Using the light of the little lamp that Hagrid had given him, Draco searched the ground. I am here in the Forbidden Forest and with Longbottom off all people! Even Potter would be better. Longbottom would run if a fly flew in front of his face! And I'm not too keen on the idea of walking around this forest.  
  
Draco heard the crackling of leaves and froze in his tracks. Off in the dark trees, he saw something slithering through the dead leaves, and what sounded like a cloak trailing over the ground. Draco could feel his heart thump wildly and he swallowed. Then the sound began to fade and Draco turned back to the patch. Longbottom and Fang had walked up a bit and Draco saw his chance. He didn't want to be here any longer, and much less with Longbottom. Draco crept silently behind Longbottom and tapped his shoulder. Longbottom squealed and shot red sparks into the air.  
  
"What'd you do that for?" Longbottom squeaked.  
  
Draco shrugged as Hagrid bounded out onto the path. "Malfoy, shoud've known." Hagrid shook his head in disgust and led them back to the rest of the group.  
  
"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fan an' this idiot." Draco glared at Hagrid. How dare that stupid oaf call me an idiot!  
  
They split up again, this time Draco was with Potter, which was better than Longbottom. Draco knew that Potter was braver than himself and Draco felt slightly better about walking around the forest. I don't like this. There are things everywhere! We're going to get killed out here and it's all because of that oaf and his stupid dragon. "We shouldn't have to do this sort of stuff. It's not our place," Draco said, trying to keep his voice steady and confident as he held up the lantern.  
  
"If I didn't know any better, Draco, I'd say you were scared," Potter said as they walked.  
  
"Scared, Potter?" Draco spat, rolling his eyes, trying desperately to remain confident. Suddenly Draco heard that slithering sound and looked around wildly. "Did you hear that?"  
  
Potter didn't answer and Draco shook his head. It's gone, whatever it was. He held up the lantern and kept walking. "Scared," Draco muttered.  
  
Soon the trees began to get so thick that they had a hard time following the path. Draco could have sworn that the blood had become thicker and it was everywhere.  
  
"Look -" Potter said, holding his arm out in front of Draco.  
  
Draco stopped and looked ahead of them at a clearing. In the clearing was a unicorn, but it was dead. Potter took a step forward, while Draco remained frozen in his tracks.  
  
Suddenly, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Draco stared at it, wide-eyed, frozen in shock. His heartbeat quickened. Draco watched in horror as the thing crawled over to the unicorn and began to drink its blood.  
  
Draco had had enough. I'm getting out of here! Draco screamed as the thing looked at them and he bolted away as fast as he could, Fang at his heels.  
  
He sprinted as fast as he could and shot red sparks up into the air. Hagrid, Granger, and Longbottom ran to Draco, who had stopped on the path, breathing hard. "It - it's Potter! There's a thing - it drank the unicorn blood!" Draco gasped.  
  
"Come on!" Hagrid yelled and they raced after him.  
  
When they reached the clearing, Draco saw that Harry standing beside a centaur. The shadow thing was no where to be seen. "Harry! Harry, are you all right?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"I'm fine," Potter said. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."  
  
Draco watched as Hagrid walked over to the unicorn and checked it. The centaur leapt back into the forest.  
  
As they walked back to the castle, Draco thought, I'm going to have nightmares about this. First we see that thing in the forest, and I'll never forget that. And then I run when Potter stays. I feel like such a coward. I'm never going to fall asleep tonight. 


	7. The Sorcerer's Stone

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year One  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
-The Sorcerer's Stone-  
  
After that horrible night in the forest, Draco could hardly function the next morning, due to his lack of sleep. He sat in the library hours on end, studying for the fast approaching exams.  
  
The exams came swiftly and the classrooms were nearly unbearable, they were so hot, especially in the rooms where they had their written exams. They had been given special new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell, much to Crabbe and Goyle's dismay.  
  
They also had practical exams. Professor Flitwick had them come up one by one to see if they could make a pineapple tap dance across his desk. Professor McGonagall had them turn a mouse into a snuffbox - the nicer looking it was, the more points, but if it still had whiskers, points were taken away. During Potions, Snape had them make a Forgetfulness potion, which didn't go too badly in Draco's opinion.  
  
After their written test in History of Magic, they were finally finished and set free. They had to wait one week until their exam results came in but then it was off to their summer holidays.  
  
Draco walked outside, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, Brandon, Terrace and Tawny. They sat down under the shade of a large tree, looking at the lake glinting in the distance. "Finally, we're free!" Brandon cried, collapsing onto the cool grass.  
  
Draco laid back, putting his arms beneath his head. His cloak spread out on the grass around him. "The exams weren't too bad, but it was just so bloody hot in those classrooms!"  
  
"Tell me about it," Tawny said, sitting against the tree. "I thought my head was going to explode from the heat."  
  
"Well, at least you studied," Terrace grumbled. "I did a little and I thought I knew what I was doing, but then I got to the exams and it all flew out the window."  
  
"That can happen," Draco said dryly. "I wonder what I got," he added thoughtfully.  
  
"What do you care? You don't have to worry. You lived in the library for the past few months," Brandon said jokingly.  
  
"Yeah, he did," Crabbe said, laughing.  
  
"We hardly saw you," Goyle said. "We thought you had disappeared."  
  
"Of course I didn't, Goyle," Draco said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Well, I, for one, hope I passed," Tawny said. "My parents will be furious if I did poorly."  
  
"Why are we talking about exams?" Brandon asked. "We should be enjoying our freedom."  
  
"Lie back and relax, that's the key," Draco said, closing his eyes.  
  
"That cloud looks like a bunny," Crabbe said.  
  
"Oooohh, there's a bird," Goyle said.  
  
"That's nice," Draco muttered and proceeded to fall asleep, the cool breeze fluttering across his face.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
That evening, in the common room, there was a large party. Everyone was celebrating the end of the exams and was bent on enjoying their freedom. After awhile, the noise began to irritate Draco, as it had come to an exceedingly high level. He looked at Crabbe and Goyle, who were eating sweets as usual.  
  
Around one o'clock, Draco finally had had enough of the party. "Crabbe, Goyle, come on. I want to get some fresh air," Draco said, hopping off of the edge of the table he had been sitting on.  
  
They looked at him. Goyle swallowed. "What about these?" he asked, holding up a pile of cookies and cakes.  
  
"They'll still be here when you get back," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Let's go."  
  
After stuffing his pockets full of sweets, Goyle came trailing after Draco, another pile of sweets in his hands. He bit into a cake. "Wha we boin?" Goyle asked, his mouth full.  
  
Draco ignored him, and walked up the stairs and out of their common room, Crabbe and Goyle following close behind. The cool, silent corridors were a relief from the noise within their common room and Draco began walking.  
  
Torches lit the hall, casting shadows. As they came up into the entrance hall, they looked up at the moving staircases. "Let's explore," Draco said, smiling. Crabbe and Goyle were silent. "Well, are we agreed?" he asked, turning around and looked right into the face of Professor Snape. "P-Professor Snape," Draco said, swallowing. I'm in so much trouble!  
  
"Malfoy, come with me. Crabbe, Goyle, you two, come on," Snape said quickly.  
  
"But Professor -"  
  
"Silence Malfoy," Snape said and led them up a few staircases and through a large red door that they had never entered before.  
  
As soon as they stepped into the corridor, Draco had a very unsettling feeling. This was the third floor corridor, the one they weren't allowed to be on! What are we doing here? Why me?  
  
Draco followed behind Snape quietly as they walked through an open door into a large room. Draco bit back a yell of surprise at the large three- headed dog that was in a corner, sound asleep as the music of a harp played softly. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood next to an opening in the floor with several other students. Draco looked at their badges and saw that they were all Gryffindors, but older students. He spotted the Weasley twins and then he spotted Granger. What is she doing here?  
  
"Good, Severus, I see you have found a few more students," Dumbledore said. "Let's get going, shall we? Take out your wands everyone, just in case." Draco watched as Dumbledore tapped the floor near the open hatchway and a staircase appeared. Dumbledore began walking down, followed by Professor McGonagall and the Gryffindors. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle followed suit, and behind them was Professor Snape.  
  
As they walked lower, Draco looked over at what looked like a huge mess of tangled limbs of a plant. What is that thing? But they walked deeper.  
  
Finally hitting the ground, they walked through a high arched room. Fluttering noises brought Draco's attention to the ceiling where there were at least a thousand winged things that looked like keys. Keys? Winged keys. Where are we?  
  
Draco glanced at the Gryffindors and saw that they weren't too sure about where they were either. Only Granger seemed to know exactly what was going on.  
  
"What are we doing here?" Draco hissed to her.  
  
"We need to get Ron and help Harry," she said quietly and moved ahead, leaving Draco behind to wonder why Weasley and Potter were down there in the first place.  
  
They walked through an open door and out onto the remains of what looked like a giant chessboard. Draco's eyes went wide. "Is - is that a chessboard?" he stammered.  
  
"Yes, Malfoy," Snape said.  
  
"Ms. Granger, where is Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall asked.  
  
"Over here," she said, leading them across piles of rubble and to the edge of the chessboard. Weasley was lying on the ground, unconscious, surrounded by rubble.  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle, Fred, you will stay here with Professor McGonagall and help her take Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing," Dumbledore ordered. "Malfoy, George, Jordan, and Ms. Granger will follow Professor Snape and me to the Stone."  
  
The Stone? What's that? Draco wondered as they split up. Draco followed Dumbledore beyond the chessboard and into a room where a line of potions sat. Flames appeared behind and in front of them. With a flick of his wand, Snape made the flames disappear and they kept walking. Draco could feel a knot of tension in his stomach. What are we going to find?  
  
As they entered a large chamber with a deep depression in the center, Draco looked at a large, dusty mirror that sat down in the depression. Then he looked down at the stairs before them and saw a robe covered in dust and Potter, lying sprawled on the stairs unconscious, a gleaming red stone in his hand.  
  
"Harry!" Granger cried.  
  
"It's alright, Hermione," the Weasley twin assured her. "I think he's just knocked out."  
  
"What is that?" Draco asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.  
  
"That, Mr. Malfoy, is the Sorcerer's Stone," Dumbledore said, stooping down to pick up the stone. "I fear that Harry had a bad run in."  
  
"With who?" Draco asked.  
  
"Voldemort."  
  
Draco winced slightly at the name. Even at home they never spoke the Dark Lord's name. "But why would he be here?"  
  
"To get the Stone, of course," Snape said as he checked Harry. "He's alive, just unconscious."  
  
"Let's get him to the hospital wing," Dumbledore said. "Jordan, George, Malfoy, carry Potter behind us."  
  
They nodded and walked over to Potter, picking him up. "We will find a safe place for this until we destroy it," Dumbledore said, pocketing the stone.  
  
Granger walked up to Potter, looking at him worriedly. "Oh, I hope he's alright."  
  
"He's fine," Draco muttered as they carried Potter. He's always fine; he's Potter. He was a lot heavier than he looked.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After coming back through the trapdoor and taking Potter to the hospital wing, they were sent back to their common rooms. As soon as Draco got back, he wasn't surprised to see that the common room was still filled with students, only a little quieter his time. He quickly got their attention and filled them in on what had just happened.  
  
"So the Sorcerer's Stone actually exists?" Karl asked.  
  
Draco nodded. "Saw it with my own eyes."  
  
"That was pretty brave; Potter going against You-Know-Who like that," someone commented.  
  
A murmur of agreement flooded through the large group of Slytherins  
  
"Facing him like that! That had to be terrifying!" another commented.  
  
"I'll admit, it wasn't too bad, but if you go around acting like he's some sort of hero, he's going to get a bigger head than he already has," Draco said. Not too bad; that was brilliant! I wouldn't have lasted a minute down there with the Dark Lord. But, of course, I'll never say that aloud. People would think I was getting soft on Potter and if my father found out, I'd be in for it.  
  
"I suppose," Tawny said, "but you still have to admit, it was heroic."  
  
"Come on, it's Potter!" Marcus said, rolling his eyes. "You know he'll do anything for attention; after all, he did grow up with Muggles."  
  
Murmurs of agreement and disagreement filtered through the group. "Well, I for one am glad that it's over and we don't have to worry about You-Know- Who coming back anytime soon," Sandra said.  
  
"True," Terence said.  
  
"What are we doing, standing around discussing Potter when we should be celebrating? We've got the House Cup!" Adrian called.  
  
"Seventh year in a row!" someone yelled.  
  
"That makes it every year for me!" a seventh-year yelled.  
  
Shouts went up and the noise level rose quickly. Draco quickly ducked out and headed up to bed. He was drained from having had no sleep because of exams and then the tension of helping them find Weasley, Potter, and the Sorcerer's Stone. He pulled on his pajamas and crawled into his bed, falling into an exhausted sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Two days later, Draco received a package from his mother. He took it back to his room and opened it, revealing a box of Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and Fizzing Whizbees. He looked around to make sure nobody was around and took out the Every Flavor Beans and Fizzing Whizbees. He left the common room and headed to the hospital wing.  
  
Madam Pomfrey walked over to him as he entered. "Can I help you Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.  
  
"I just want to give these to Harry," Draco said, showing her the candy.  
  
She nodded. "Very well, but don't disturb him. He's still sleeping."  
  
Draco nodded and walked past her and over to Potter's bed. His glasses had been laid on the bedside table and the table at the foot of his bed was covered in cards, candy, and sweets. No trouble when he's sleeping, Draco thought with a slight chuckle. Not bad, Potter, not bad at all. You were really brave down there, facing up to the Dark Lord. I don't know what I'm going to do when my time comes to face him since I know that my father has had dealings with him in the past. Of course, I don't know if I'll be able to be as brave as you were. You're really something, Potter, do you know that? No, I suppose you don't. You're lucky, don't ever forget that. If luck could be seen, it would be coming out of your ears. I don't know how you managed to survive that encounter. Well, the Sorcerer's Stone is no more; Dumbledore is having it destroyed. But I have a sinking feeling that the Dark Lord will return and I hope you're ready Potter, because we need you. If you're not around, we're all doomed.  
  
Draco set down the box of Every Flavor Beans and the packs of Fizzing Whizbees. "Enjoy them, Potter," Draco said quietly. "You deserve it."  
  
He left the hospital wing and went back to the common room. Terrace, Brandon, Crabbe, and Goyle were waiting for him when he came in.  
  
"We've been looking for you, it's time to head out to the last Quidditch match: Gryffindor against Ravenclaw," Brandon said.  
  
Draco nodded. "Let me get my scarf and gloves." He ran upstairs and came back, scarf and gloves in hand.  
  
"Last one!" Goyle said as they walked outside.  
  
Draco wrapped the scarf around his neck, pulling on his gloves. "I hope Ravenclaw wins," Draco said.  
  
"Oh, they will," Terrace said. "Potter's still in the hospital wing, so they're putting one of the alternate Chasers in for Seeker. This should be interesting."  
  
Draco laughed. "Gryffindor doesn't have a chance."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Indeed, Ravenclaw flattened Gryffindor and the Slytherins were very excited. The next day would be the end-of-year feast and the Slytherins planned on savoring every moment.  
  
Soon the last day arrived and the Slytherin common room was in an uproar. They headed to the feast in one large group, a vast majority of the Slytherins sneering, smirking, or laughing as they passed the other houses. The Gryffindors were sullen and Draco smiled. We top them yet again.  
  
As they entered the Great Hall, Draco grinned, looking at the hall that was decked out in the green and silver for their house. A huge banner showing the Slytherin crest hung above the High Table.  
  
They sat down at their table, cheering and talking excitedly. "This is bloody brilliant!" a seventh-year yelled.  
  
Suddenly a hush filled the hall and Draco looked to see Potter walking in. The noise rose again and Draco saw that a few people were actually standing to see Potter. Draco just rolled his eyes.  
  
"Potter will never let us live this one down," Draco sneered, looking at Marcus, who was sitting next to him. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting to Draco's left.  
  
"I know. But at least we won the House Cup," Marcus said, grinning. "Every year so far for me!"  
  
At that moment Dumbledore arrived and the hall went silent. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, standing at his place at the High Table. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts . . ." Some of the students laughed at this. "Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two points; in second, Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty-six points; and in first, Slytherin house with four hundred and seventy-two points."  
  
The Slytherin table erupted in shouts, feet stomping, cheering, and many smug looks towards the other tables. Draco smirked at Weasley, who was looking at him. Weasley turned away. Yes! We've won the House Cup! My father will be so pleased!  
  
Draco grinned, cheering along with the rest of the Slytherins.  
  
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin, well done," Dumbledore said, "however, recent events must be taken into account."  
  
Draco froze in mid-cheer, his smile fading. The room was very still and the smiles were disappearing from the rest of the Slytherins.  
  
"There are a few last-minute points to award. To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect in the face of danger, fifty points. Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, fifty points."  
  
This can't be happening! Draco thought.  
  
"Third, to Mr. Harry Potter, for pure love and outstanding bravery, I award Gryffindor house, sixty points." The room was completely silent. "And lastly, It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I therefore award ten points to Gryffindor house in the name of Neville Longbottom."  
  
As the room erupted into a deafening roar, Draco looked at the Gryffindors, stunned and completely horrified. He felt like he was going to cry. Draco saw Potter and Weasley glance at him smugly, cheering. Then the Gryffindors threw their hats up into the air, the other two houses doing the same. Draco pulled off his hat, slamming it onto the table. All the Slytherins looked down at the table, crestfallen.  
  
"Which means, we need a little change of decoration," Dumbledore said. He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place.  
  
Draco buried his face in his arms. Stupid Potter and his stupid friends! They ruined everything! We worked hard for those points and then Dumbledore had to go and give Gryffindor one hundred and sixty points! Just like that! It wasn't fair! Potter gets everything! I hate him! I hate Granger! I hate Weasley, and I hate all the rest of the Gryffindors! He slammed his fist onto the table, lifting his head. He shot a look of pure hatred at Potter, who was surrounded by cheering Gryffindors. The rest of the Slytherins were glaring at the Gryffindors as well and nobody spoke a word.  
  
That evening had been one of the most horrible nights of Draco's life and he wasn't sure if would ever be able to face his father.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
They received their exam results the next day and it brightened Draco's foul mood a tiny bit. He had scored in the upper nineties and lower one hundreds on all of his exams; his hard work had paid off. But, of course, Granger had the highest grades. Can't wait until father learns that a Mudblood got the best grades in our entire class, Draco thought sarcastically. Surprisingly, Goyle and Crabbe managed to scrape their way through, passing by a thread. Draco didn't know if they'd make it to their third year, much less past the OWLS that they would have to take in their fifth year.  
  
They all received notes, warning them not to use magic over the holidays.  
  
The train ride was silent in Draco's compartment, although Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing themselves as usual. Draco watched sullenly as the scenery passed by, becoming greener as they neared King's Cross Station.  
  
When they pulled into the station, Draco looked around for his parents, but they were nowhere to be seen. My parents couldn't even be bothered to come pick me up, Draco thought bitterly. Probably too ashamed that Slytherin lost the House Cup. Potter at least has people waiting for him, even if they are Muggles. At least they're family. A man walked over to him as he came off of the train and he recognized him as Macnair. "Your father sent me to retrieve you. Let's go," Macnair said coolly. Draco nodded, still depressed about the previous day's events.  
  
"Draco!"  
  
Draco turned to see Brandon, Terrace, and Tawny running over to him. Draco gave them a small smile. "Hi," he said.  
  
"We'll stay in touch over the summer, okay?" Terrace asked.  
  
Draco nodded. "Right."  
  
"Bye, Draco," Tawny said.  
  
"Don't look so sad, the year's over," Brandon said. "We'll win the cup next year."  
  
"Maybe," Draco said, not believing it for a second. With Potter at Hogwarts, Gryffindor will always win because everyone favors him. It's not fair to the rest of us who actually work hard to accomplish our goals. And the Slytherins most of all because nobody favors us. They all hate us. "We'll get together and play Quidditch sometime."  
  
Brandon grinned. "Sure thing."  
  
"See you soon!" Terrace said as he and Tawny walked away.  
  
Draco gave them a small wave.  
  
"I'll owl you when I get home," Brandon said.  
  
"Okay," Draco said and Brandon left.  
  
Draco turned to Macnair, who was looking at him with a cool expression. "Finished?" Macnair asked coldly.  
  
"Yes," Draco said softly and followed Macnair away from the Hogwarts Express.  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
HERE ENDS DRACO'S VERSION OF THE SORCERER'S STONE.  
  
I hope you enjoyed Year One of The Other Side of the Mirror. Read, review, and I'll see if I can get Year Two up.  
  
Thanks for reading and I hope that you got a different perspective on Draco. He really isn't that horrible, now is he? Sympathize with the poor boy, I do, very much so. And you have to admit, that was really horrible in the end when Slytherin lost the House Cup. We're all happy that the Gryffindors won, but what about the Slytherins, who had been working hard and counting on it? And all at once! Poor Draco! Poor Slytherins! 


	8. 2ND YEAR At Flourish and Blotts

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year Two  
  
Chapter One  
  
-At Flourish and Blotts -  
  
"Over here!" Brandon yelled and Adrian hurled the Quaffle towards him. They sped towards their goal, Marcus and Sandra in hot pursuit. As a Bludger flew past Draco, Karl shot up and hit it away from him.  
  
"Nice one, Karl!" Draco said.  
  
Karl grinned and sped away. Draco, holding onto his broom with one hand, wiped away the perspiration on his forehead. It was a steamy July afternoon and although it hadn't been bad when they had started in the morning, it was becoming unbearable as the day dragged on.  
  
Then he smiled. Only one more month until he was back at Hogwarts. His smile disappeared. Back with Potter, brilliant, I'm so thrilled. Just what I want to do. Put up with more Potter and Weasley. Oh well, this year we'll get the House Cup and put those Gryffindors back in their place.  
  
Draco scanned his friends as their game went on beneath him. Carolina, now in her sixth year, played Keeper as always, and Tawny was at the other goals. Over the summer, Karl had managed to grow about a foot and was about a half a foot taller than Draco, who had sprouted a few inches. Karl's red hair had darkened and was now a dark brown, slightly tinged with red.  
  
Draco watched as Blaise Zabini, a second-year, hit a Bludger towards Sandra as she sped towards her goal. He and Blaise had become pretty good friends over the past few months after Brandon had introduced them at the beginning of summer. Blaise was short, about the same height as Draco, and had flaming red-hair. He had the pale skin to go along with it.  
  
A golden flash by his face drew him away from his thoughts and he spotted the Snitch. He dove down after it, Terrace at his heels. Draco reached out, shooting forward as Terrace inched closer. Draco swept his hand down, feeling the cool metal in his hand. He landed, wiping the sweat away from his eyes.  
  
"I got the Snitch!" he yelled and his friends halted in their game, landing around him after they had collected the Bludgers.  
  
"Finally! I thought I was going to burn up to ashes if we stayed out much longer!" Tawny exclaimed.  
  
"It was becoming rather steamy, wasn't it?" Marcus asked, smiling.  
  
"That was really long!" Crabbe exclaimed, breathing hard.  
  
"And hot," Goyle said, nodding.  
  
"What can you expect for July?" Adrian asked.  
  
"At least the matches during school are in cooler weather," Karl said.  
  
"Yeah, lucky you," Draco muttered quietly. He still couldn't believe that he hadn't made the team the previous year, but if he didn't make the team this year, he didn't know what he was going to do.  
  
"Well, I'm going to head home. We're having some guests over for dinner tonight so I have to help my mother make sure everything is ready," Carolina said. "Those house-elves do a decent job, but sometimes, there's an odd one in the batch and it ruins everything."  
  
"I know what you mean," Draco said. "One of our house-elves, Dobby, he's been with us for a long time, but I think he's beginning to go senile. I don't think he's that old, but sometimes he makes the stupidest mistakes. Of course, he could be doing that on purpose, but I don't see why he would want to make my father angry."  
  
"No, that would be a bad thing," Blaise agreed, having seen Draco's father's tempers quite often.  
  
"I think a nice cold bath is calling me at the present," Brandon said, "and I'm going to take full advantage."  
  
"Last match of the summer," Sandra said, "I'll see the rest of you back at school."  
  
They nodded and she, Carolina, and Brandon left.  
  
"When are you going to Diagon Alley?" Blaise asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "I think we're going next week sometime." Draco smiled. "Maybe I'll get the racing broom I want."  
  
"Nimbus 2001, right?" Marcus asked, grinning. "Those brooms are supposed to be tons faster than the Nimbus 2000 and . . . well, it would be brilliant if we could get a hold of some of those for the team this year. Gryffindor wouldn't stand a chance against us."  
  
Adrian and Draco smiled. "Then we'd win the House Championship, again," Adrian said.  
  
"And maybe the House Cup along with it," Karl added.  
  
"Not if Gryffindor pulls what they did last year," Terrace said grumpily.  
  
"Let's not talk about Gryffindor. It'll just foul our moods," Blaise said.  
  
"Well, I'm getting rather hot standing out here talking, not doing much of anything, so I think I'm going to head back. I'll see you at school, or at Diagon Alley, whichever comes first," Tawny said.  
  
"I'll see you then," Draco said as Tawny and Terrace left.  
  
"I'm going to head back for now. I'll see you later," Blaise said and headed off towards home.  
  
"Nimbus 2001," was all Marcus kept saying.  
  
Adrian looked at Draco and Karl, smiling. "We'd better go. I'll see if I can't get his mind off that broom." Adrian rolled his eyes. "That's all he has been talking about the entire summer."  
  
Draco and Karl laughed and Adrian and Marcus left.  
  
Karl turned to Draco. "Hopefully I'll see you out at the pitch during Quidditch season this year, right?" Karl asked.  
  
Draco nodded. "Hopefully," he said, not believing it for a second.  
  
"We've got two spots open, so you might have a better chance then you're giving yourself credit for."  
  
"Not likely. Thanks though," Draco said sullenly. "I'll see you at school."  
  
Karl shrugged. "See you then," he said and walked away.  
  
Draco trudged down the hill to Malfoy Manor. I'm never going to get on the team. It's not fair that Potter got on just because of his stupid scar.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
That evening at dinner, his father informed Draco that he once he received his letter tomorrow, they would be going to Diagon Alley to pick up his school things.  
  
"I wonder who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be," Draco mused, poking his fork in his chicken.  
  
"Let's hope that he's decent," his father said. "The Dark Arts is not something to be meddling with and you need a decent teacher to be better informed of them."  
  
"But I already know more about that then all the other kids," Draco said.  
  
His father looked at him sharply. "It would not be wise to be speaking of that, especially after that incident with the Ministry last Christmas. We don't need any more officials poking their noses where they don't belong. I don't want you to speak a word about it, understand?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, father."  
  
"We have to go into Borgin and Burkes tomorrow to sell some of our things and I want you on your best behavior. You're a Malfoy and you know how to act."  
  
"Yes, father, but what if we run into Potter?"  
  
"Let's hope we don't, and it would be wise if you don't speak badly about him, especially since most of our kind regard him as the hero who defeated the Dark Lord. You'd be smart to remember that in the future."  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, groaning inwardly. Potter gets everything. Everyone loves Potter. He took a bit of his potatoes, swallowed, and then asked hopefully, "Do you think I could get a racing broom tomorrow?"  
  
Draco held his breath and released it when his father said, "We'll see."  
  
Please, please, let me get a Nimbus 2001!  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The next afternoon, Draco went to Diagon Alley with his father. His mother was staying home, for she had come down with a cold and didn't feel well enough to move around much.  
  
Draco looked around at all the well-known shops of Diagon Alley and spotted the display where the Nimbus 2001 sat. He looked at it wistfully as kids huddled around it, "oohing" and "aahing". "It's the fastest model! So much better than the 2000!" a boy exclaimed.  
  
Draco glanced ahead to where his father was walking. Please, father, please, let me have that broom. "Come on, Draco," his father said curtly and he turned the corner to go down to Knockturn Alley. Draco glanced once more at the broom and then followed his father.  
  
As they swept through the crowd of witches and wizards, going about their business, Draco looked around at the shops that were devoted entirely to the Dark Arts. Now here's some interesting stuff. Maybe father will buy something for me. Then I'd have something to do besides sit in my room, bored half to death. If it weren't for Brandon and Blaise, I don't know what I would do with myself.  
  
"Draco," his father said.  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, running up to walk next to his father.  
  
"For a late birthday present, I'll buy you your broom." Draco's heart leapt in joy. Yes! I'm getting a 2001! "But," Draco breath caught in his throat, "on one condition. If you don't meet this condition, I'll take away the broom."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Get your grades up," his father said, looking at him coldly.  
  
"But Granger, she -"  
  
"I don't want any more of your excuses! Be happy that you're getting the broom."  
  
His father stopped in front of Borgin and Burkes and stepped inside, Draco swiftly following. Draco looked around at all the items on display as his father walked up to the counter, ringing the bell.  
  
Draco walked over to a display where a glass eye sat on a dark red cushion. Just as he was reaching for it, his father said, "Touch nothing, Draco."  
  
Draco's hand flew back and he looked at his father. "I thought you were going to buy me a present." Please!  
  
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.  
  
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" Draco asked sullenly, feeling very depressed at the moment. I had been so happy to get that broom, but a whole lot of good it'll do me if I can't even get onto the team. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous . . . famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead . . ." Draco crouched down, examining a shelf full of skulls. "Everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick -"  
  
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," his father said, giving Draco a quelling look. "And I would remind you that it is not . . . prudent . . . to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr. Borgin."  
  
Draco looked at the greasy man who now stood behind the counter. "Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," Mr. Borgin said, his voice oily. I don't believe that for a minute! Draco thought. "Delighted - and young Master Malfoy, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -"  
  
"I'm not buying today, Mr. Boring, but selling," Draco's father said, cutting off Mr. Borgin.  
  
Draco tuned out what his father was saying and looked at the other displays, ranging anywhere from withered skulls to eyeballs to a large display of withered creatures. Draco walked over to a counter, examining a withered hand. Wicked!  
  
"Can I have that?" Draco asked, pointing to the withered hand.  
  
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" Mr. Borgin said, walking over to Draco. Mr. Borgin looked at him, smiling. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best of friends to thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."  
  
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," Lucius said coldly.  
  
"No offense, sir, no offense meant -" Mr. Borgin stammered.  
  
"Though if his grades don't pick up," his father said, his voice growing colder, "that may indeed be all he is fit for -"  
  
"It's not my fault!" Draco interjected. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger -"  
  
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," his father snapped.  
  
Draco looked down, abashed and ashamed. Why does Granger have to be so smart! I try, I really do! And then she comes along and ruins it all! She makes me look stupid in front of my father and I can't bear that!  
  
"It's the same all over," Mr. Borgin said. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere -"  
  
"Not with me," his father said shortly.  
  
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," Mr. Borgin said, bowing slightly.  
  
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list. I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today -"  
  
Where was father going later? Draco wondered. He hadn't mentioned anything to me yet. Oh . . . I wonder . . . he did say something about Macnair and Nott coming over tonight and they were going to get something . . . no, wait, they gave it to him last night. Yes, I remember, Macnair came over and they went into father's study, and then father said something about dealing with the Ministry today. I wonder what Macnair gave my father?  
  
Draco walked over to a large black cabinet, examining a long coil of hangman's rope. He picked up the card next to it and smirked. Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed - Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.  
  
Nice. Stupid Muggles. Oh well, I wonder if it works on Mudbloods. Draco turned away and looked at the black cabinet. Hm, I wonder what's in here. Draco reached for the handle but froze when his father said, "Done. Come Draco."  
  
Drat, Draco thought. He turned away and walked over to his father, who was saying, "Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."  
  
Draco's father turned swiftly and walked out of the shop, Draco following close behind.  
  
"Mr. Borgin is coming tomorrow?" Draco asked as they headed back up to Diagon Alley.  
  
"Yes, Draco."  
  
As they neared Flourish and Blotts, Draco saw a huge crowd gathered in front. He looked up at the large banner that had been strung along the front window:  
  
GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME Today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.  
  
"You go in and collect your books. I don't want to deal with that idiot," Lucius said coolly. "I need to go purchase a few items and then I'll be back."  
  
Draco nodded and his father walked away. Draco pushed his way through the crowd and up the set of stairs to his left. He walked up to the balcony that was situated right over where Lockhart would be appearing. He crossed his arms, leaning on the rail, looking at the crowd below him.  
  
"Oh, I don't believe we actually get to meet him!" a girl squealed.  
  
"I know! Isn't he just brilliant!" another exclaimed.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. What do they see in that oaf? He sounds like a phony to me. I doubt he's really done all that stuff he says.  
  
A loud gasp went up in the crowd as Lockhart stepped through the back archway and up to the counter. Draco could see that some of the girls and older women were practically drooling. Disgusting. He watched as a man pushed his way up to the counter.  
  
"Excuse me, little girl. This is for the Daily Prophet." The man began shooting photographs as Lockhart posed.  
  
Lockhart would pose for anything just as long as he gets credit. It's pathetic. Draco scanned the crowd and spotted Potter and Weasley standing in the crowd, looking very bored.  
  
Then Draco heard Lockhart say, "It can't be. Harry Potter?"  
  
"Harry Potter?!" the photographer exclaimed. He turned around and grabbed Potter, dragging him up to where Lockhart was standing.  
  
"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart said, grinning. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."  
  
Draco groaned inwardly. Of course. Potter and his stupid scar. He's gets all the attention. I bet he loves that.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart said loudly. "What an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts today to purchase his books, he had no idea that he would be getting the set of my entire works, free of charge!"  
  
Everyone clapped loudly as Lockhart handed Potter a stack of books, pushing him away to begin signing autographs.  
  
Draco walked down to the stairs and quickly found his books. He spotted Potter, Granger, and the all the Weasley kids walking out of the crowd in the bookshop. Draco hurried down the stairs, blocking their exit.  
  
"I bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?" Draco spat. "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page!"  
  
"Leave him alone."  
  
Draco looked down and saw the Weasley girl looking up at him coldly. He smirked, looking back at Potter. "So, Potter, you got yourself a girlfriend!"  
  
"Now, now, Draco, play nicely." Draco froze as he heard his father's cold voice behind him. Lucius rapped the snake head of his staff on Draco's shoulder, moving him out of the way. Draco groaned inwardly. Now I'm in for it! My father saw me harassing Potter and I'm really going to get into trouble!  
  
"Mr. Potter," Lucius said coolly. He held out his hand. "Lucius Malfoy, we meet at last." Potter's hand in his own, Lucius pulled Potter close to him, pushing back the hair on his forehead with the tip of his staff, revealing the scar. "You'll have to forgive me. But your scar is legend . . . as of course is the wizard who gave it to you," Lucius said with a small smile.  
  
"Voldemort killed my parents," Potter said venomously, jerking his arm from Lucius' grasp. "He's nothing more than a murderer."  
  
Lucius smirked coldly. "You must be very brave to speak his name . . . or very foolish," Lucius said, smiling slightly.  
  
"Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself," Granger said evenly. Draco looked at Granger, who was standing next to him. He sneered. Perfect Granger, you just had to speak up, didn't you?  
  
"And you must be . . ." Lucius looked at Draco, "Ms. Granger." Draco nodded, still glaring at Granger. "Oh yes, Draco's told me all about you. And your parents." Lucius sneered, glancing at Granger's parents, who were standing over in a corner talking to Mr. Weasley. "Muggles . . . aren't they?" he asked, looking back at Granger. Draco smirked.  
  
Lucius looked at the Weasley kids, scanning them. "Let's see . . . red hair, vacant expressions . . ." Lucius pulled the beat up book from the Weasley girl's cauldron. "Tatty, second-hand book . . ." He looked at the Weasleys, sneering. "You must be the Weasleys."  
  
"Come on children, it's too crowded in here. Let's go outside," Mr. Weasley said, coming up behind his children.  
  
"Well, well, well . . . Weasley Senior," Lucius said coldly.  
  
Mr. Weasley looked up at him with a cool expression. "Lucius."  
  
"Busy time at the Ministry and with all those extra raids, I do hope they're paying you overtime. But," Lucius said coldly, holding up the ratty book, "judging by the state of this, I'd say not." Lucius dropped the book into the girl's cauldron and looked at Mr. Weasley coldly, his lips curling into a sneer. "What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard, if they don't even pay you well for it?"  
  
Mr. Weasley glared at him. "We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."  
  
"Clearly," Lucius sneered. He shook his head, glancing at Granger's parents. He looked at Mr. Weasley, his gaze ice-cold and his voice colder still. "Associating with Muggles. And I thought your family could sink no lower."  
  
Mr. Weasley just looked at Lucius, swallowing his rage. Draco smirked. Best part of my day. My father sure knows how to cut right down to the heart of things. And he does it so efficiently. I wonder if I'll ever be able to have the same cold assurance, control, and efficiency that my father has. I hope.  
  
Lucius sneered. "I'll see you at work." He turned and walked out of the shop, his cloak billowing behind him.  
  
Draco walked over to Potter and Weasley, looking at them coldly. "See you at school," he said to Potter, glancing at Weasley. He turned and followed his father.  
  
As Draco walked beside his father, he remained silent. That was wicked!  
  
"Pick out your broom, Draco," his father said curtly as they entered the shop.  
  
Draco grinned. "I already know. The Nimbus 2001."  
  
"Very well," his father said, nodding. He looked at Draco with a penetrating stare. "I'm coming to watch the first match this year and I expect you to be out there playing on the team against Gryffindor."  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, swallowing. How was he going to manage that?  
  
"Slytherin had better win."  
  
"Yes, father, but -" Draco stopped, waiting for his father to cut him off, but he just stood there, waiting for Draco to continue. "It's just that Potter has that 2000 and even some of the Gryffindors have better brooms than what Slytherin flies on. We have decent brooms but -"  
  
"I understand, Draco," his father said, cutting him off. "You're right." I'm right? My father just said 'I'm right'? Draco thought in shock. "Slytherin has a very good team, but they are in need of a change of brooms."  
  
His father walked up to the counter and spoke to the man, who nodded. Lucius looked at Draco. "I will bring your broomsticks to Hogwarts and give them to Professor Snape. You can get them from him once you arrive at school."  
  
"Broomsticks?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised.  
  
"Yes, I'm purchasing your team a new set and so you had better win," his father said in a no nonsense tone.  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, swallowing. Now if only I can make the team! 


	9. Gilderoy Lockhart

The Other Side of the Mirror  
  
Year Two  
  
Chapter Two  
  
-Gilderoy Lockhart -  
  
Draco leaned back against the seat on the train, looking out as the scenery flew by. Crabbe and Goyle sat across from him, busily munching on their sweets. He smiled. Wait until the team sees those broomsticks! They are going to be so shocked! And I can't wait until Potter sees our brooms. He's in for it now!  
  
Draco pulled up his legs in Indian-style on the seat, the folds of his robe spilling over them. He loosened his tie slightly, thinking about the past few days. Not much had really happened and his mother was still sick. She hadn't gone with them when his father had taken him to King's Cross Station because she still felt horrible. He didn't blame her. I hope she'll get better soon!  
  
One night, Macnair had come over and Draco had listened by the door of his father's study as they spoke in hushed tones. He knew he shouldn't have eavesdropped, but he was rather interested in what Macnair had given his father and why they were having all these conversations. All he had overheard, however, was something about a diary and the Mudbloods getting their due. Draco was happy that the Mudbloods might be taken care of, but he had an uneasy feeling that something was going to happen that year; he just didn't know what.  
  
"You gotta try these!" Goyle exclaimed, breaking Draco away from his thoughts. Goyle was holding out a Pumpkin Pasty.  
  
"I've already tried them, but thanks," Draco said, taking the pasty. He unwrapped it and bit into it. I needed something sweet right about now.  
  
He glanced out the window and a movement caught his eye. He looked harder and he could have sworn that something very large had just flown by the window, and it had looked like a car. But of course, that was impossible. He looked again, but it was gone. Must have just been my imagination. Huh.  
  
He heard a high pitched squeal and winced as Pansy thrust herself into the opening of their compartment. "Can you believe it?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and her eyes wild with excitement.  
  
"What?" Draco asked in a bored tone. He didn't really feel like talking to Pansy at the moment.  
  
"Gilderoy Lockhart is coming to Hogwarts!"  
  
"He is?" Draco asked in dismay.  
  
"Who?" Crabbe asked, eating a chocolate frog.  
  
"Who?" Pansy asked, her eyes wide. "You mean you haven't heard of Gilderoy Lockhart, the famous wizard that has defeated all those monsters?"  
  
Crabbe shrugged.  
  
"Didn't he write all those books?" Goyle asked.  
  
Draco looked at Goyle. "How do you know that?"  
  
Goyle shrugged. "I saw him at Flourish and Blotts."  
  
"Oh, right," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "The famous Lockhart. Who cares?"  
  
"Who cares?" Pansy screeched.  
  
Draco put his hands over his ears. "Would you mind not screeching so loudly? You're giving me a headache!"  
  
Pansy pouted. "Well, you should be excited. He's a brilliant man and oh so good-looking!" Pansy put her hand over her heart, faking a swoon.  
  
"Oh, please," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. "Pansy, go talk to someone else about Lockhart. We don't care."  
  
"Fine, then," Pansy said, putting her hands on her hips. "You know you should really appreciate him after all those things he did. The world wouldn't be safe without him." With that she disappeared from the opening and he heard her talking to someone else about Lockhart.  
  
"Yeah, says he's done. I don't believe a word of it. In my opinion, its complete rubbish," Draco muttered, looking out the window again.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
When the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Draco watched as the first- years followed Hagrid towards the lake. Then he turned his attention to the horseless carriages that stood on a dirt path off to the side of the platform. That was what the rest of the school would be taking to Hogwarts. Draco climbed into a carriage with Crabbe, Goyle, Brandon, and Blaise and they felt it pull away sharply.  
  
"These things must be enchanted to go all by themselves," Brandon said as they rode towards the castle.  
  
"Either that or they're led by invisible horses," Blaise said.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Either way, it's a lot better than taking those boats across the lake. At least we're dry in here."  
  
Everyone nodded in agreement. "The smell isn't the best, but it's a lot more comfortable than those wooden benches in the boats," Brandon said.  
  
Draco looked out one of the curtained windows and watched in awe as they passed through a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars. Those are brilliant!  
  
At last, the carriage swayed to a halt and they stepped out, facing the stone steps that led up to the castle. They joined the crowd on the steps and swept through the giant oak front doors into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.  
  
The filed into the Great Hall and took their seats at their respective tables. Draco looked up at the thousands of candles floating above their heads and the clear sky above them. That ceiling is brilliant. He looked around at the empty dishes. I'm starving! I hope the Sorting goes quickly because I don't know if I can wait much longer to eat.  
  
He looked up at the High Table and groaned as he saw the professor who would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts: Lockhart.  
  
"Brilliant," Draco muttered.  
  
"What?" Marcus asked, who was sitting to Draco's left.  
  
"Did you see who our new Dark Arts professor is?"  
  
"Lockhart!" Pansy squealed from down the table.  
  
"Oh no," Marcus groaned. "He's teaching our Dark Arts class?"  
  
"Unfortunately," Draco said.  
  
"I don't believe this!" Blaise cried, looking past Marcus and to Draco. "That guy couldn't even defend himself from a Flobberworm, much less any other creature!"  
  
"Maybe he won't be bad," Goyle said.  
  
They all looked at him. "I very much doubt it," Brandon said, who was sitting across the table.  
  
The room hushed as the great doors opened and Professor McGonagall walked down the center isle, followed by the large mass of nervous first-years.  
  
Draco smiled, watching them file by. I remember when I went through that! I was so nervous; I had no idea what was going to happen.  
  
The mass stopped in front of the Sorting Hat and soon a song spilled forth,  
  
"I may not look like much But don't be fooled If you just give me a touch You'll find I'm very useful For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting hat And I top them all For I can see what's in your mind There's nothing that I cannot see But don't get yourself in a bind Just put me on and I'll tell you where you ought to be. Perhaps in Gryffindor Where the bravest of heart maybe be found Or perhaps in Ravenclaw Where dwell the cleverest of our kind Perhaps in Hufflepuff Where the hard-working and loyal are Or perhaps in Slytherin Where the ambitious will find their home. So try me on Place me on your head And I'll tell you where you belong!"  
  
Draco clapped along with the rest of the older students and watched Professor McGonagall pulled out her long scroll.  
  
"That was a different song than the one it sang for us," Blaise said.  
  
"It has a different one every year," Marcus explained.  
  
"Well, I suppose it has to be boring sitting around all year; it probably spends it's time figuring out the next song," Brandon said.  
  
"That sounds fun," Draco said sarcastically.  
  
"Don't have much choice when you're the Sorting Hat," Blaise said.  
  
Draco shrugged and turned his attention back to McGonagall.  
  
"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she instructed. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table. Arnold, Carletta!"  
  
A short girl walked up to the stool, sitting down. As McGonagall placed the hat on her head, it shouted,  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
The girl hopped off the stool and headed towards the cheering Ravenclaws.  
  
"Remember when we went through that?" Brandon asked.  
  
"I was really nervous," Crabbe said.  
  
"I think everyone was," Blaise said, watching as the hat sorted three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws, and a Gryffindor.  
  
"Creevey, Colin!"  
  
A short, mousy, blond-haired boy walked up to the hat nervously. He sat down, his eyes wide as the hat was placed on his head.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The boy grinned and ran over to the Gryffindors. As Draco scanned the Gryffindors, he realized that Potter and Weasley weren't anywhere to be seen. I wonder where those to got off to. Maybe they got expelled! Draco thought hopefully. That would certainly solve a lot of his problems.  
  
The Sorting continued and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the name, "Weasley, Ginny!" was called.  
  
Draco watched as the Weasley girl from the bookshop walked up to the hat, sitting down. Not surprisingly, the hat called out,  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
and the Sorting was finished. Finally! Draco said, sighing in relief.  
  
Dumbledore stood. "Welcome back everyone. Welcome first-years. A new year begins at Hogwarts! Let us eat!" He sat down and the food appeared on the golden plates.  
  
"Food!" Crabbe cried, digging in.  
  
"I'm starving!" Goyle said, heaping food onto his plate.  
  
"I think we all are," Draco said, putting various foods onto his plate.  
  
"Well, I for one can't wait until tryouts!" Blaise said, taking a bit of his pork chops.  
  
"We have spaces available," Marcus said, looking at them.  
  
"I suppose all we can do is try, right?" Blaise asked.  
  
"Right," Marcus said with a smile.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After the feast had finished and Draco suffered through another round of the school song, he headed up towards the High Table to speak with Professor Snape. Adrien had informed him of the password, "Salazar". Crabbe and Goyle walked behind him.  
  
Draco looked around but didn't see Snape anywhere. He walked up to Professor Flitwick.  
  
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick?" Draco called.  
  
Flitwick looked up at him. "May I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked in his slightly squeaky voice.  
  
"I was looking for Professor Snape, but I don't see him anywhere."  
  
"Well, he had to deal with something down in his office. You can find him there."  
  
Draco nodded. "Thank you, Professor." He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Let's go."  
  
They nodded and followed Draco as he walked past the large group of first- years and down the stairs to the dungeon.  
  
When they entered the Potions classroom, they headed to the back where Snape's office was.  
  
Draco rapped on the door, inching it open.  
  
"Excuse me, Professor Snape?" Draco called.  
  
Snape looked up at him from behind his desk, the candles giving the room an eerie light. "Yes, Malfoy?" he said, looking very haggard at the moment.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Professor?" Draco asked, stepping into the office.  
  
Snape sighed, his lips curling into a sneer. "I suppose you noticed that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley weren't at the Welcoming Feast?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"They decided it would be funny to fly a car to Hogwarts instead of taking the carriages like the rest of the students," Snape sneered.  
  
"Figures," Draco muttered. So I wasn't imagining it. I actually saw a car flying past the train window!  
  
"Needless to say, they were let off easy and only received detentions."  
  
"But that's not fair!" Draco protested. Why does Potter always get out of everything! It's not fair!  
  
"That's what I thought, but apparently Professor McGonagall thinks otherwise. Now, is there something you wanted?"  
  
"Yes sir, my father said that I should speak to you when I arrived to get the broomsticks."  
  
Snape nodded. "Yes, he has informed me of that." His lips curled up into a small smile. "With these brooms, Slytherin can't lose. Those Gryffindors won't stand a chance." He stood, his black cloak swirling around him.  
  
"No, sir," Draco said, smiling.  
  
"Are you trying for the team?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good." He motioned to the bundle of broomsticks in the corner. "There you are."  
  
"Thank you, sir!" Draco said, grinning. He ran over to where the brooms stood. He ran his hand down the gleaming black shaft. The Nimbus 2001's! They're brilliant!  
  
"Those are the 2001's?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"Yes, they're brilliant, aren't they."  
  
"Wicked," Goyle said, smiling.  
  
"You had better be getting back to your common room, Malfoy."  
  
"Yes, sir," Draco said, nodding. He looked at Crabbe and Goyle, who nodded and lifted up the brooms.  
  
They left the study and headed to their common room.  
  
When they entered, a large group of Slytherins stopped and stared. "Those are Nimbus 2001's!" someone exclaimed.  
  
"Yes, they are," Draco said proudly. "These are for our House team. With these, we will win the House Championship and we'll leave the Gryffindors in the dust!"  
  
"Oh yeah!" a fifth-year yelled.  
  
"You got them!" Marcus exclaimed, running up to where Draco stood.  
  
Draco nodded, grinning. "Yes, I did."  
  
Marcus stooped down and ran his hand over the broom. "These are brilliant! I can't wait to see Wood's face when we come out with these!"  
  
"Those brooms are wicked, Draco!" Blaise exclaimed, staring at the brooms.  
  
"We have the best team and now we have the best brooms!" Adrian yelled. Shouts and cheers rang loudly in the Slytherin common room.  
  
"Draco," Marcus said, standing. "Could I talk to you?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Sure." He looked at Crabbe and Goyle. "Can you two make sure the team gets these?" They nodded. "Don't mess up."  
  
"We won't," Goyle said.  
  
Let's hope not, Draco thought and followed Marcus over near the fireplace. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Draco asked.  
  
"Well, I was going to inform you of this as we were heading to the common room, but I haven't had a chance until now. Adrian, Terence, and I were talking and after seeing what you can do out on the pitch, we'd like you to be our Seeker."  
  
Draco's breath caught in his throat as he looked at Marcus, wide-eyed. "Y- You mean, I-I'm on the team?" Draco managed, swallowing.  
  
Marcus smiled. "Most definitely. You're a decent Seeker and we need to be able to win over Gryffindor."  
  
"But what about the tryouts?"  
  
Marcus shrugged. "The tryouts are just for the captains to get a good look at possible candidates for next year. We usually have a pretty good idea who we want on the team before the tryouts, unlike the other houses. We want the best, and I think we're going to have it this year."  
  
"What about the other slot? You said there were two."  
  
Marcus nodded. "We needed a Beater, but we've found a replacement."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Blaise."  
  
Draco grinned. "Brilliant!"  
  
"In about a month we're going to start practices, so make sure you plan accordingly. We need to be as good as we can so that we can smash Gryffindor."  
  
"You bet," Draco said. I can't believe it! I'm on the team! Wait until my father finds out! "Thank you so much!"  
  
"No problem," Marcus said. He smiled. "You deserved it." He walked away, leaving Draco grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"What'd he want, Draco?" Blaise asked, walking up to him.  
  
"We're on the team!"  
  
Blaise's eyes lit up. "Really?! Brilliant! I can't wait until my parents find out! They're going to be thrilled!"  
  
"We're going to win the championship, I just know it."  
  
"Potter won't stand a chance against you, huh." Blaise said, grinning.  
  
"If he can even see me!" Draco said, smirking.  
  
"He's pretty good, though," Brandon said, interjecting into their conversation. They looked at him sharply. Brandon shrugged. "But with those brooms, we'll win for sure."  
  
"This is going to be a brilliant year!" Blaise exclaimed.  
  
"Most definitely," Draco said, grinning.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The next morning, during breakfast, Draco was eating his sausage when the mail arrived. Draco had spotted Weasley and Potter when he had come in for breakfast.  
  
Suddenly a large gray owl balked in the air and crashed into the food in front of Weasley, splattering porridge all over Weasley. Draco burst out laughing, as did the rest of the Slytherins. Marcus was twisted around in his seat to look at Weasley, laughing loudly.  
  
They watched as Weasley held up a bright red envelope, his hand shaking. "Look everyone, Weasley's got himself a Howler!" a Gryffindor called. The entire hall was laughing quietly, some watching Weasley in silence.  
  
Draco grinned. Hah! Weasley's in for it! I don't believe he got himself a Howler! That's what he gets for flying that car!  
  
"You know, I bet it's because he stole that car!" Brandon called from the other side of Goyle.  
  
That morning before breakfast, Draco had informed them about what had happened to Weasley and Potter, and then a few others had chimed in on what they had heard. Apparently, they hadn't been able to get through the barrier at King's Cross and had taken Weasley's father's car to Hogwarts. Then they had managed to land it in the Whomping Willow on top of it. Needless to say, they weren't expelled, much to Draco's dismay. However, the Howler that Weasley had just received would make Draco's day. This is going to be hilarious!  
  
"Oh no," they heard Weasley moan as he stared at the envelope in his hand. The entire Slytherin table was laughing hysterically now.  
  
As Weasley began to open it, his hands shaking, the Howler suddenly jumped out of his hands.  
  
"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I'M ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! NOW YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"  
  
The Howler burst into flame and fell into pieces onto the table in front of a horrified Weasley. A ringing silence filled the entire hall.  
  
Then Draco began laughing hysterically, tears coming to his eyes, as was Marcus and the rest of the Slytherins. The entire hall began filling with voices again, and Weasley turned bright red.  
  
"That was the best!" Blaise yelled, howling with laughter.  
  
"The look on his face!" Marcus yelled. "Priceless!"  
  
At that moment, Professor Snape walked by, handing out their course schedules. First class of the day would be Double Herbology, which they would share with the other houses.  
  
"Let's go," Draco said, standing.  
  
Brandon, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle followed him out of the Great Hall and they headed for Greenhouse Three, where their class would be taking place.  
  
"Greenhouse Three! We've never been allowed in there! I've heard there are all sorts of creatures and tougher ones at that!" Blaise said as they walked.  
  
When they entered the greenhouse, they stood in groups near the long table in the center of the greenhouse. Draco looked at the leafy plants that sat wriggling in their pots on the table. I wonder what these are? Draco wondered. On rows of hooks were cream colored robes and the second-years donned them quickly, waiting for the professor to arrive.  
  
"I wonder what we're doing today," Draco said, looking around. Draco looked across the table and groaned inwardly as he saw that Potter and Weasley stood nearly across from him. About four kids down to Draco's right, Granger stood between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff.  
  
"Good morning class!" a voice called. Several students kept talking so the voice called again. "Good morning class!"  
  
They all turned to Professor Sprout, a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair and was dressed in a dirty cream-colored robe. "Good morning, Professor Sprout," they all called.  
  
"Welcome to Greenhouse Three second-years! Now, gather round," she said, motioning them closer to the large table. Draco looked over Crabbe, watching Professor Sprout, interested. Maybe Herbology wouldn't be that bad, even if we are sharing it with Gryffindor. "Today we'll be repotting Mandrakes. Now, can anyone tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?"  
  
To nobody's surprise, Granger's hand shot up into the air. Professor Sprout nodded to her. "Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," Granger said smartly. "It's used to return those who have been petrified to their original state."  
  
"Excellent," Professor Sprout said, smiling. "Ten points to Gryffindor."  
  
Potter and Weasley grinned at each other. Draco glared at them and then turned his attention back to the professor. Figures they'd gloat. Just wait till Quidditch, Potter, then we'll see who's grinning.  
  
"The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Can anyone tell me why?"  
  
Granger's hand shot up into the air. Draco looked at her above Crabbe's head. "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," Granger said promptly.  
  
"Take another ten. Now, as our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet, however, they will knock you out for several hours, which is why you've each been given a set of earmuffs for auditory protection. Put on your earmuffs, flaps down tight." Draco quickly pressed the flaps down; patting them to make sure they were in place. "Now, you grasp your Mandrake firmly," she explained as she held gripped a plant next to her under its leaves. "You pull it out of the ground," she said, yanking the Mandrake from its pot. Draco flinched, looked at the thing in horror. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of its head. It had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs. Everyone winced; even the little bit of sound that they could hear was horrible. "And place it in another pot, sprinkling a bit of dirt around it to keep it warm." She looked at them, after filling the pot with dirt.  
  
The lifted their flaps up so they could hear anything she said next.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Longbottom's eyes roll of inside of his head and collapse onto the ground. Pathetic! Professor Sprout shook her head. "Longbottom's been neglecting his earmuffs."  
  
"No, ma'am, he's just fainted," a Gryffindor said.  
  
"Oh, well, just leave him there," Professor Sprout said. Draco smirked. She looked at the class. "Now, there are plenty of pots to go around."  
  
Draco made sure his flaps were down securely and then gripped the Mandrake in front of him. He yanked it out of the dirt, looking at it disgustingly. Then he smirked, holding it up with his left hand. With his right hand, protected by his dragon-hide gloves, he put his finger in the toothless mouth, tickling it and laughing. He looked at Crabbe, making sure he could see the harmless Mandrake, when he felt a sharp stab of pain in his finger. Looking back at the Mandrake, whose mouth was chomped tightly on his finger, he yanked his finger out, shaking his hand. Ow! That really hurt! Stupid plant! He scowled at the disgusting thing and shoved it into the empty pot.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After Herbology, they headed to Transfiguration. "I don't believe that stupid thing bit me!" Draco complained, his finger still hurting.  
  
"But it doesn't have teeth," Goyle said.  
  
Draco glared at him. "It still hurt."  
  
"That's what you get for putting your finger in its mouth," Brandon said, laughing.  
  
"You wouldn't be laughing if you had just had your finger bitten by a toothless plant," Draco said sourly.  
  
During Transfiguration, they had to change a beetle into a button, and to Draco's delight, he succeeded. At least something is going right today. First the Howler, and now I've actually transfigured something on the first try! Good day for me, if I forget the fact that I got bit.  
  
A sudden stench filled the room as Weasley, who was sitting directly in front of Draco, managed to surround himself in a thick, gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Draco rolled his eyes, looking at the broken wand that Weasley had attempted to fix with Spellotape. Can't even buy a new wand, Weasley? I suppose you barely afforded the first one. Draco thought, smirking.  
  
Needless to say, Professor McGonagall wasn't happy with Weasley. Draco just grinned.  
  
During lunch, everyone was talking about their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which would be that afternoon. "I wonder if Lockhart even knows what he's talking about," Blaise said, eating a sandwich.  
  
"I rather doubt it," Brandon said.  
  
"Do you think we'll have to do anything in the class?" Goyle asked.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Besides notes? I don't think so; there's not much we can do hands-on yet."  
  
"Right," Blaise said.  
  
"I suppose we'll just have to suffer through it. We're sharing it with the other houses, right?" Draco asked.  
  
"Unfortunately," Blaise grumbled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
After lunch, they headed down the corridor and outside into the overcast courtyard that sat in the middle of the castle. As they were walking, Draco spotted Potter, Weasley, and Granger, talking to a short blond haired kid that was carrying something around his neck. He was looking up at Potter, talking excitedly. "So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him," Draco heard the kid say. "And it'd be really good if I had one of you. Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. Figures Potter would let all that fame go to his head. Now he's giving out signed pictures? Pathetic! "Signed photos?" Draco said scathingly. "You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"  
  
Draco walked up to Potter, Crabbe and Goyle standing beside him. "Everyone line up!" Draco yelled, looking around at the students that had stopped to watch. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"  
  
"No, I'm not," Potter said angrily. Draco looked at him, sneering. "Shut up, Malfoy."  
  
"You're just jealous," the little kid piped up.  
  
Draco looked down at the kid and sneered. The kid barely came up to his shoulder, and was about as big as Crabbe's neck. "Jealous? Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered next to him.  
  
"Eat slugs, Malfoy," Weasley said angrily.  
  
Draco looked at him, his eyebrows raised. Crabbe had stopped laughing and was now staring Weasley down, cracking his knuckles menacingly. There was a definite advantage to always having Crabbe and Goyle around. "Be careful, Weasley," Draco sneered, "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He made his voice rise shrilly, "'If you put another toe out of line' -"  
  
Nearby, a group of Slytherin fifth-years laughed loudly.  
  
Draco smirked, looking at Potter. "Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house -"  
  
Weasley whipped out his broken wand, but froze as they heard a voice call out, "What's all this about?" Draco turned to see Lockhart striding towards them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?" Lockhart grinned as he spotted Potter, throwing his arms across Potter's shoulders. "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"  
  
Draco smirked and turned, walking away with the rest of the crowd. It's what he deserves after acting all superior. And that Lockhart, he just thinks he's the greatest thing that walked the earth.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
They walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and took their seats, looking around. In the front of the classroom was a staircase and a door at the top. Around the room was several photos of Lockhart and at the base of the stairs, there was a large tapestry of Lockhart painting himself. That man is so full of himself! He really needs to learn a bit of humility. Draco thought.  
  
The door opened at the top and Lockhart swept out. The room was silent. "I would like to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: me!" he said, smiling a mouth full of white teeth. Draco glanced around and saw that all the girls were looking up at Lockhart dreamily. He sneered. Pathetic. What do they see in him? "Order of Merlin, Third Class," Lockhart said, walking down the stairs, "Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League," He smiled at his portrait, who grinned back. Lockhart looked at the class. "And five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most- Charming-Smile Award," he said, grinning, "but I don't want to talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"  
  
Draco heard a few weak laughs around the room. He, however, just looked at Lockhart, his eyebrows raised. He really has no clue, does he?  
  
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in -"  
  
Lockhart began walking around the room, handing out papers. "You have thirty minutes," he said, returning to the front of the classroom. "Starting - now!"  
  
Draco looked down at the paper in front of him, raising his eyebrows. "What kind of quiz is this?" he muttered.  
  
What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color? What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?  
  
This went on over three sides of paper, right down to:  
  
When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?  
  
Draco just stared at the paper and then scribbled down nonsense, which is what he thought of the quiz. This is pure rubbish! We're supposed to be learning about the Dark Arts, not the professor! I bet he doesn't know one thing about the Dark Arts.  
  
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and looked through them at the front of the class.  
  
"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year With the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wandering with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - thought I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"  
  
He winked at them and Draco just stared at him in disbelief. Could this guy get any more full of himself? Goyle, who was sitting next to him, was shaking with silent laughter, as were a few of the other students around the room.  
  
"But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact," Lockhart said, flipping to her paper, "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"  
  
Draco watched as Granger raised her hand and he just shook his head. Figures. She probably idolizes him.  
  
"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed. "Quite excellent! Take ten points to Gryffindor! And so - to business -"  
  
They watched as Lockhart walked over to a cage covered in a cloth. "Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind!" He rapped the cage with his wand and it began shaking. "You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here."  
  
Draco glanced around the room and realized that the entire room was silent. Even he had to admit, he was slightly interested, and watched the cage intently, tendrils of fear snaking their way through his body. He swallowed, looking up at Lockhart. What was in the cage?  
  
"I must ask you not to scream," Lockhart said in a low voice. "It might . . . provoke them!" he said, whipping off the cover.  
  
"Cornish pixies?!" one of the Gryffindors said, laughing loudly.  
  
"Yes, freshly caught Cornish pixies," Lockhart said.  
  
The Gryffindor was now laughing, jabbing his friend next to him, who was also laughing. Even Draco let a small smile creep over his face. Cornish pixies in a cage? This won't be that bad, then. I don't believe that I was actually worried!  
  
"Laugh as you will, Mr. Finnigan," Lockhart said. "But they can be devilishly tricky little blighters." Draco looked at the pixies, which were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.  
  
It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Longbottom by the ears and lifted him up into the air. They dropped him and his cloak caught on the chandelier. He began swinging back and forth.  
  
They proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. As a pixie flew at Draco, he picked up one of the books, hitting it away from him. All the students were running now for the doors, hitting the pixies away that flew at them. Draco ducked and sprinted for the door, Crabbe and Goyle following swiftly behind.  
  
Once they were out in the courtyard, they stopped, breathing heavily. Several other students from the same class were standing around, catching their breaths as well.  
  
"Can you believe that?" Brandon cried angrily.  
  
"He didn't have a clue what he was doing!" Draco said, just as angrily.  
  
"People could have been hurt," Blaise said, shaking his head. "That guy is pathetic!"  
  
"Now you see why we don't think Lockhart should teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Draco asked, looking at Goyle.  
  
"Those pixies were really scary," Goyle said, nodding. "He didn't know what to do once he set them loose."  
  
"Exactly," Draco said, looking at his friends.  
  
"He was just trying to give us hands-on experience," Pansy said, overhearing them.  
  
"Hands on?" Blaise cried incredulously. "Pansy, he had no clue what he -"  
  
"Rubbish," she said, sniffing. "You've read all his books; you know all those amazing things he's done!"  
  
"Says he's done," Brandon muttered.  
  
"I don't believe a word of that rubbish in his books," Draco said.  
  
"Well, you just don't know a brilliant man when you see him!" Pansy retorted. "He's done more than you'll ever be able to do!" With that, she stalked away angrily.  
  
"I don't see why all the girls think he's so brilliant," Blaise grumbled.  
  
"Neither do I," Draco said.  
  
"Even Millicent was enthralled," Goyle said, who had sat next to her in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"We need a new professor," Brandon said.  
  
"I don't think one thing is going to get him kicked out," Crabbe said.  
  
Draco looked at him, nodding. "You're right. Although the way I've seen Professor Snape look at Lockhart . . . well, I just wouldn't want to be on the receiving end."  
  
They all nodded. "You got that right," Blaise said.  
  
"Well, you know what they say about that job. It's cursed," Brandon said.  
  
"Just as long as we get a new professor next year, I think I'll stay sane long enough to get through this year," Draco said.  
  
"Exactly," Blaise agreed. 


End file.
